


Gasoline

by umigay



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drugs, Drunk Driving, F/F, Guns, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Minor Character Death, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Character Death, Past Sexual Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:37:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8387455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umigay/pseuds/umigay
Summary: A town clouded by mysteries, Otonokizaka is seen as a useless dump by most of its citizens. Wanting nothing more than to leave, Rin Hoshizora sets out her plans to escape from her hometown; but with the arrival of a well-spoken florist and her anxious companion, alongside the return of a girl thought to be living her dream elsewhere, a story of a tragic accident and more, Rin's interest is piqued, and she sets out to figure what exactly is going on in Otonokizaka.





	1. are you insane like me

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyy, so i'm trying to write something different to what i usually write, so excuse the general badness of this xD I'm not sure how long this will be but I don't plan on making it too long, because I also have to focus on Battleship and my mikayuu fanfic, though I haven't had inspiration for the latter in a long time.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and do be warned, this story deals with very dark themes - not so much in this chapter, but in others, definitely. If anything in the tags of the story makes you uncomfortable, please be warned.

The dimly-lit alleyway, illuminated only by a dull, almost-broken streetlight, is enough of a guide for the dark figure to swiftly pass through, footsteps on the cobblestone paving the only visible sound above the smooth winds. Somewhere nearby, the sound of a bird taking flight from its recluse atop a brick wall invades the silence, as if stepping into forbidden territory, so sudden and sharp it almost makes the figure jump. Almost.

Not a hint of reluctance or hesitation in her step, she continues onwards, pale hand clutching at the hood of the obsidian cloak, as if desperately grappling to keep her face covered, not that anyone would be around to witness if the cloak went flying off, much like the crow that must be far higher than the girl at the moment. She thinks it funny, how you see a bird take flight, react to its noise, but never really dwell on where the offending creature is going. Every bird flying has a destination, somewhere to go, and even if they don’t, nothing can hold them back from flying wherever they wish to go – be it across oceans, continents, anywhere. Humans have been robbed of such freedom, things like responsibilities, careers, family, friends, holding them back from the picturesque sights they could be seeing.

She abandoned the final two set-backs a long time ago. The image of her father’s hand, deathly pale and trembling, reaching out for her – it haunts her mind every night, but she knows that he was only an inconvenience. An obstacle in the way of her freedom; she’s never been good with friends, not since she was a child, and they did a well enough job of leaving her so she did not have to do so to them. In the past, she was too weak to leave them – it was just as well they abandoned her. It caused her to hurt, but they gave her an opportunity. An opportunity she plans to take.

As for her mother, she has nothing to say to her. If they did, one day, find one another again, and somehow recognise one another, she would turn and walk away. Any woman who saw it fit to abandon her own child without a word… the girl knows her mother is not worthy of her affection. She won’t stay here just on the off-chance the woman will show up again.

Family, friends, ticked off, like a bucket list. She’s rid herself of all those set-backs, so what was stopping her? What kept her in this goddamned town, still dealing drugs and getting caught up in the dodgy Otonokizaka business that went on after dark, when there was a world out there, an array of sights to see? For one thing, she’s out of money. She’d never been the best off financially, and only recently has that begun to show. Empty pockets are filled by means she believes to be nothing but filthy. Illegal, gross money, wads of cash and notes she does not deserve. But she needs them – God knows how she’s supposed to find any different kind of money in a place like this. Find herself a suitable career and settle down? That’s only setting herself up for being condemned to this cursed town.

Selling (and occasionally purchasing) drugs is the only business that doesn’t tie her down, yet she still finds herself with loose ends that need to be tied up. Sucks for her, but she needs money, and the only way she can get the necessary money to get the hell out of this place is by finishing up the work she hasn’t completed. Which is why she’s out, in a deserted alleyway, in the middle of the night, waiting to meet up with a client. Probably not the best of ideas, but the reward was a hefty amount of cash that would go towards her funding to get out of Otonokizaka. She taps her foot impatiently against the ground, arms folded across her stomach. When she breathes out, she sees a pale fog in front of her face. Winter is coming, after all. It’s only natural it’d be cold, especially since it’s so late.

Just as she’s wondering what’s taking the guy so long, another figure approaches, taller than her, and bulkier. She may be small and dainty, but she knows how to defend herself against bigger, more muscular people, so she doesn’t feel the swell of anxiety she used to get whenever someone far larger than her approached. She pushes herself off from where she leans against a brick wall and faces the client expectantly.

“Show me the drugs first,” he says, in a gruff voice. She rolls her eyes. He sounds just like the type of man to have lungs filled with smoke, and she knows he is just that, as she silently withdraws the packet from her bag in one nimble movement.

He examines the bag without taking it. His face moves closer to sniff at the contents, and she screws her nose up with disgust. He smells even worse close up – weed, tobacco and beer, that’s the combination of aromas that hits her nose; he withdraws, and she lets out a small sigh of relief.

“Money.” She holds her right palm out, and the man rustles around in his jean pocket, not half as organised as she is. He pulls out a wad of notes, which she counts as he eyes the bag hungrily.

“Take it. Go,” she commands, and the man snatches at the bag of drugs, turning and setting off at a brisk pace, leaving a trail of the disgusting smell behind. She’s no stranger to the scent of weed and alcohol, but it’s so strong on this man even she feels the need to retch. She decides it’s for the best that she leaves and stores her money somewhere safe, as to avoid any more alleyway encounters.

The walk back gives her a chance to mull things over. Things about her life, the way things are going. She never really overthinks things much anymore. Sure, she knows she wants to leave – no, not wants, she _needs_ to leave, needs to escape and go somewhere, anywhere. She just doesn’t know where. The idea of deciding where to go during the planning stage slipped from her mind. She has a few locations in mind – the general direction, places where apartments are available, et cetera. Beyond that, she doesn’t know. Maybe she’ll just wing it. Or maybe she’ll get lucky. She prays for the latter. Maybe a kind stranger will find her a home, or offer her somewhere to sleep – knowing Otonokizaka, it’d be impossible to find that kind of help around here. But maybe in other areas, it’s different. She wouldn’t know. She’s spent her whole life confined here, which is why she needs to get out.

In the state she’s in, reeking of drugs and alcohol and dressed in such attire, there’s no way she can run back to her aunt and uncle's house, so she makes do with an abandoned apartment she found which can be easily accessed if you know how. It’s cold, the draft from a smashed window causing her to shiver, but as she draws the thin, dusty blanket over her and rests her head against the oddly soft pillow, she couldn’t care less about the cold. All she needs is rest for the night, then she can return home early enough in the morning so her parents will never know she was gone. It’s become a sort of routine for her to do this, so she knows how it works.

In the cold, abandoned apartment, the cool night air wafting in through the shattered window, causing a cardboard box filled with bubble-wrap to rustle gently from the calm breeze, the girl, curled up on the floor, lets sleep wash over her, dreaming of places beyond the town she knows, oceans, people, landmarks, homes.

She’s never truly felt like she had a home, but in her dreams, at least she can pretend.

~-~

“Nozomi.”

She leans over the rail, cigarette pinched between two fingers and held to her numb lips, bare arms shivering in the winter cold, hands shaking as she attempts, once, twice, to light the cigarette. Only when she succeeds, the end of the cigarette flaring up for a moment before settling, does she turn around to face the owner of the voice, taking a long drag, embracing the sensation of smoke filling her lungs.

“There’s a customer who wants you.” Her assistant looks formal, too formal – she’s wearing black, which sort of matches the theme of the parlour, but her hair is too sleek, posture too tense. Nozomi rolls her eyes and pushes herself off from the railing.

She walks back into the building, feeling warmth take hold of her. Her co-workers often question why she wears sleeveless or strappy shirts even in winter, to which she really has no response. People always assume it’s so that she can show off the tattoos, swirls and patterns and shapes all the way up her arms to her shoulders. But she has plenty more tattoos – butterflies on her collarbone, the image of a knife skewering a heart on her upper back, and a ring of roses on her lower back. Not to mention similar patterns to the ones on her arm on her left leg, which she plans to copy over to her right as well, but she’s still deciding whether or not that would look good. She usually has an eye for tattoos, whether or not they’ll be suitable in that area, but on herself, she’s hopeless.

A woman stands in the middle of the parlour, tapping her foot impatiently. Nozomi recognises her as a customer she had last week – wanted a small tattoo on her wrist, not uncommon for women her age. The middle ages were the times people really questioned what they really wanted in life, and she always gets bombarded by people, both men and women, in the peak of their mid-life crisis, wanting tattoos. But only small tattoos. Maybe they’re too cowardly to go as far as she has.

As usual, the woman’s eyes meet Nozomi’s tattoos at first, gaze trailing up from her left leg to her arms to her face, where she has a small tattoo of a star about a centimetre from the outer corner of her right eye, the winged eyeliner on the eyelids themselves and the white sequins stuck carefully around the tattoo. It’s been her makeup routine for so long she barely takes any more time to do it than when she just stuck to simple eyeliner, but this represents her far better. She’s never been good at expressing herself through words, so tattoos and makeup works for her.

“Can I help you?” Nozomi asks, and the woman is startled, as if she’s only just noticed that the tattoos are attached to an actual person.

“Um, yes. I’ve noticed some redness around the area where you tattooed and I was just wondering if it’s normal for that to happen. I'm quite worried, you see, it's been swelling as well...”

Nozomi resists the urge to roll her eyes. Typical paranoid middle-aged woman, asking about the slightest of things when it comes to their tattoos. She always tells them that redness and swelling is perfectly normal, but about half of them, maybe more, come back a few days later to check up on it. It’s a waste of time.

“As I explained after I did the tattoo,” she begins calmly, trying to keep her voice from raising; a door opens behind her and the woman’s eyes flick over to the intruder – _of course she shows up late again_ – but back to Nozomi just as quickly, so that she can continue, “it’s perfectly normal to have redness and swelling around the area for a few days after the tattoo is completed, and there will be some soreness and aching as well. The best thing to do is to not further irritate the area and leave it be for about a week, and soon it will go. Is there anything else you wanted to ask?”

The woman opens her mouth, then closes it, like some sort of fish. “No, that was it,” she says, rather flustered, clutching her handbag tighter. She turns and leaves the shop hurriedly, the door slamming shut behind her. For the third time that day, she felt her eyes roll as she turned to the reception desk, where a familiar girl sits with her legs propped up on the desk.

“Business as usual, huh,” the girl at the desk says, an edge of amusement in her voice.

“Late as usual, Nico,” Nozomi snaps back, her voice almost scolding as she moves closer to the desk. Nico grins, leaning back in the office chair. The relaxed posture almost pisses Nozomi off, but she’s used to it by now. Sighing, she pushes at Nico’s legs until they flop back onto the ground, and the shorter girl huffs.

“That was rude of you,” Nico pouts. “Let a girl have some comfort.”

“If I have to spend the day dealing with middle-aged women, you don’t get to have your luxurious comfort, especially after you show up fifteen minutes late for your shift. Get your ass in gear, Nico. Don’t you have some huge tattoo to do today?”

“I’m not too worried,” Nico admits, standing up from the chair with a heavy sigh. “If the customer complains, your assistant’s the one who has to deal with it, not me.”

“Typical of you, Nico,” Nozomi responds blankly, watching her assistant jolt from the corner of her eye. “Shoving the blame onto someone else. You really have an unpleasant personality.”

“Hey, have you seen that new shop across the road?”

The change of subject causes Nozomi to furrow her brows, but the curiosity about what Nico’s talking about makes her forget to scold her. “What new shop? I was too busy actually working to notice what’s been going on outside.”

Nico sticks her tongue out and laughs. _Honestly, it’s like she’s still a child,_ Nozomi thinks to herself, but waits for her response. “It’s a florist shop. Pretty funny, right? A shop selling flowers across from a tattoo parlour.”

“A florist’s.” Nozomi sighs. “At least there’s no competition between us, then.”

“We should introduce ourselves.” Nico leans in with a mischievous smirk, the kind that means she’s up to something. “Won’t that be fun? We can get to know our new neighbours. Whoever they may be.”

“You can do whatever the fuck you want after your shift is over, I really couldn’t care less, but keep me out of this.”

“Awh~, but it’d be so much more fun with you there!”

“Nico, what did I say before?”

“…You couldn’t care less?”

“No, way before that. Before you distracted me.”

Nico feigns innocence, shrugging.

“ _Get your ass in gear, now_.”

She giggles and salutes, rushing over to the other end of the room and disappearing up a flight of stairs, feet pattering against the creaky floorboards. The twin-tailed girl left downstairs sighs, sweeping her fringe back with her hand. She can already tell it’s going to be a long day. Her assistant fidgets in the corner, as if contemplating whether or not to ask her what she needs to do – if it was up to her, she’d tell the assistant to piss off, but she needs some help around the parlour, so she keeps her around.

“Go manage the desk. I need to finish that cigarette,” she instructs, and the assistant nods, hurrying over to the reception desk as Nozomi steps back outside, but via the front exit rather than the back.

Nico wasn’t lying. Across the road, opposite Nozomi’s parlour, is a brand new florist’s shop, replacing the old crappy Indian takeaway that stood there previously. It’s bright, filled with pastel colours and an array of flowers. Nozomi crinkles her nose. She’s never really liked flowers, despite the roses tattooed on her lower back. Maybe those are the only flowers she really likes, considering their significance to her, but other flowers… she’s never been a fan. Nico’s allergic to some flowers, as well, so she wonders why she ever suggested visiting the florist’s. They already have a pretty wide variety of flowers available.

She attempts to peer through the shop window and see anyone inside, but it’s difficult with a display of flowers blocking her view. Sighing, she drops the cigarette, crushes it beneath her feet and crosses the road, walking until she stands in front of the shop, staring at the sign.

 _Hana's_. That’s the name of the shop, nothing else. Maybe it’s a work in progress, because it’s not exactly an appealing name. Then again, _Toujou Tattoo Parlour_ is a pretty crappy title for her parlour, but it’s something. At least it’s not just one word on a sign with little flowers painted around it. Rolling her eyes for the fourth time, she opens the door after making sure the sign says ‘open’.

The aroma of flowers hits her all of a sudden, and it’s so strong and sweet-smelling she wants to turn around and run right back to the tattoo parlour. But she forces herself to keep on going until she reaches the empty counter. A bell sits atop it, with a little piece of paper plastered down in front of it saying ‘Ring for assistance’. Nozomi slams her hand down on the bell and hears it ring out, and a female voice from a different room calls out, “Coming!”

Nozomi waits around impatiently until she hears footsteps quickly approaching and the beads covering the archway from the main shop to the staff-only section are swept aside, revealing a girl. Not just any girl. A beautiful fair-haired one. As much as Nozomi tries to keep her gay thoughts away, they just keep rising back to the surface as the girl smiles at her, not at all put off by the tattoos, or maybe she just hasn’t noticed yet. The girl herself has blonde hair, tied loosely back into a ponytail with two long sections free at the front. Her eyes are sky blue and her complexion appears to be Russian – she’s got a few inches on Nozomi and wears a flowery button-up shirt and black skirt with a flower-embroidered apron over the top, for whatever reason, followed by plain black tights and ankle boots, which Nozomi can barely see over the counter but takes into account.

“Welcome!” she smiles, and her smile is almost contagious – Nozomi feels the edges of her lips twitch, but catches herself before she proceeds. “How may I help you, Miss? Uh… please excuse the mess.” Her smile falters a little, referring to several boxes and empty shelves. “We’ve only just opened, so we’re still settling in.”

“I’m from the tattoo parlour across the street,” Nozomi states nonchalantly.

“Oh, Toujou's? That’s interesting.” The girl looks like she wants to say more, but instead smiles again. “I hope we can get along. I know a flower shop and a tattoo parlour are almost… stark contrast to one another, but I believed this was the ideal place for this shop. Maki and I have worked pretty hard setting this up, so we hope our efforts go toward something.”

 _Maki_? So there’s another person at this store. Nozomi nods slowly, feeling her hand twitch, begging her for another cigarette. She resists the urge, having taken notice of the no-smoking sign outside the shop, and instead taps her nails on the counter to distract herself. “I just came to say hello. My…” _Friend_? Nico isn’t exactly a friend; they don’t get along whatsoever, and their personalities differ greatly, but they tolerate one another, and work pretty well together. “My colleague mentioned there was a new shop across from us so I decided to come and check it out.”

“Ah, that’s lovely. I’m glad word’s getting out about it.” The girl laughs lightly and looks directly at Nozomi, causing the twin-tailed girl to jump slightly at the sudden eye contact. “So what’s your name? And this colleague of yours.”

“I’m Nozomi Toujou. Pretty obvious why our tattoo parlour is named that. And I doubt Nico’s worth introducing. By the way she sounded, she’ll be dashing over here right after her shift ends.” She realises she doesn’t know this florist’s name yet. “How about you?”

“Eli Ayase.” The name fits her. It’s elegant-sounding, and as Nozomi rolls the name back off her tongue in verification, she glances around her, the pastel-themed shop and the colourful flowers… yes, Eli Ayase is _definitely_ a flowery kind of name.

“The co-owner of this shop is called Maki Nishikino. She’s sorting something out in the back right now, but I can call her up here if you want to be introduced.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Nozomi waves a tattooed hand dismissively. “I gotta get back to work anyway. Busy day.”

“Ah.” Eli looks slightly disappointed, but smiles anyway. _Jesus, how does anyone manage to smile so much after moving to a dump like Otonokizaka?_ Nozomi puts the thought to the back of her mind as Eli speaks again. “Well, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other now that we’re working opposite one another. I hope to talk again soon, Nozomi. And tell Nico I said hello. I’ll tell Maki you’ve been around.”

“Alright.” She sounds surprisingly well-spoken, proving even further that she’s definitely not from Otonokizaka. Nozomi’s slightly curious about this Maki girl, but figures she needs to head back before Nico realises she’s gone.

Eli waves as Nozomi leaves without returning the favour, and the minute she’s outside she seizes a cigarette from the pack she keeps in her pocket at all times, lighting it and taking a drag as she walks as slowly as possible back to the parlour. She sees her assistant at the desk, trying to make use of some papers when she clearly has nothing to do. No phone-calls, then. It’s not the most popular place in town, Toujou Tattoos, but they get by with what they have. Maybe it’s worth it to put up with the middle-aged women, after all.

Not just women, clearly, as a man approaches the parlour at the same pace as Nozomi, shocked when she opens the door before him, stepping inside. Her assistant perks up at the sight of Nozomi returning, only to look befuddled when she’s followed by a man in his… forties, maybe?

“How may we help you, sir?” the assistant asks, voice clearly the fake kind of sweet.

“I want a tattoo, what the fuck else?” the man responds in a gruff voice, and the assistant’s smile falters.

“Have you made a reservation?”

“Yeah. She should know that it’s now. Where the fuck is she? Not you,” – he vaguely gestures towards Nozomi with his hands flying around everywhere in exaggerated motions – “the short one with pigtails in those goddamn red ribbons.”

“Nico will be down in a second,” the assistant attempts.

Nozomi rolls her eyes. _That’s five times today. Slow down, tiger._ She ignores the voice in her head and marches over to the stairs. “Nico, get your ass down here, there’s a customer who wants to see you.”

The girl herself rushes down the stairs with a pile of papers in her hand, looking a little flushed as she busies herself. She lays out the plans for the tattoo and instructs the man to take a seat on the chair. Nozomi whistles as she gets to preparing for the tattoo as Nico talks to the man, who isn’t very responsive.

“Right, we should be ready to go, then,” Nico says. Nozomi turns around, seeing that the man is now shirtless, revealing a few large tattoos on his back. Nico taps an area of his back which is clean, and he grunts in response, showing Nico that that’s where he wants the tattoo.

“Well, depending on your pain tolerance, this will either be a slight irritation or slight pain. Either way, shouldn’t be too bad. You seem to have already gotten your shoulder-blades tattooed, so this should be a breeze.”

“Yeah, yeah, been through this dozens of times, get on with it.”

“Quit acting tough or I might just let the tattoo gun slip.”

“I’ll sue you.”

“Ooh, I'm terrified.” This time it’s Nico who rolls her eyes as she preps the equipment and presses the tattoo gun to his lower back, slightly to the left. She refers to the image on the papers and begins to outline.

Not really bothering to watch, Nozomi disappears up the stairs and onto a balcony. She has the perfect view of the florist’s in front of her, and furrows her brows as she stares at the colourful shop. It’s so out of place, especially in Otonokizaka, that it’s almost laughable. She lights a cigarette without realising and smokes as she looks out at the dump of a town. She’s pretty sure no one here actually _enjoys_ living here, but they tolerate it, because they’re too poor to move elsewhere. If only she could figure out why Eli is here, when she sounds so posh and wealthy.

With a shrug of her shoulders, she discards the cigarette and heads back inside. Another day of work, in a crappy parlour in a shitty town. Just business as usual.

She wonders if it’ll ever change.


	2. been in pain like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kotori re-visits her childhood town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty chapter up ahead :-) thank you for the kudos and hits so far!

It’s a quiet day when she returns. The town is as still and dull as she remembers it, yet she feels a sense of nostalgia wash over her. It’s the first time she’s been here in years, and it’s as if the town hasn’t moved an inch, as if time hasn’t passed by a single second since she left, filled with tears and regrets. The birds still sing their tiresome melodies in the trees, litter still rolls on the streets, discarded carelessly by drunkards in the unholy hours of the night, and the church is still as deserted as ever, hardly anyone showing up to the services anymore.

She passes the school she used to attend, remembering the memories she and her friends shared there – her eyes fill with sadness as she walks away from the scene, tears threatening to spill over dark lashes. Amber eyes dart around the scene of the town she used to call home. She walks with more confidence in her step than she did walking this path in her adolescence, and she’s matured – taller, standing straighter, hair tied up in a bun rather than her old style of letting most the hair free except for a small chignon bun to the side.

Reminiscing over her past as she strolls forward to take the biggest leap of her life, far larger than agreeing to study overseas, far larger than leaving her friends – yes, the act of leaving her friends was a lot easier than this. Coming back to them. Having left them, watching the tears fill their eyes as they said their final goodbyes, only to return years later out of the blue. How could she expect them to forgive her? She wonders how Umi and Honoka have changed. Last time she saw them was in their second year of high school – Honoka was bright and energetic, as if nothing could ever bring her down, and Umi was strict and stern but knew what she wanted in life. She smiles fondly. It’s a silly little hope to cling to, that her friends will be the same people they were in high school, but it’s helped her get through the difficult years she’s had without them.

She found new friends, of course. She was fairly popular in the school she transferred to, and she learned plenty of new things. Her career as a fashion designer doesn’t seem so far off now, not when she’s done this well. But she’s taken a gap year anyway, just so she can revisit Otonokizaka, and maybe travel elsewhere as well. It depends on what she wants, which she has no idea of. She doesn’t know what she expects from this trip, but she feels as though she needs to return. Needs to see Honoka, hug her, talk to her again after they’ve lost contact. She needs to see if Umi is okay, if she’s still the same headstrong girl she once knew.

But she’s scared. She’s scared to see how they’ve changed. But as she reaches closer to her destination, she wonders if her terror is stupid or not.

She had texted Umi’s mother before she arranged the trip, asking if she could plan a surprise visit to see Umi. Her mother responded happily, telling her the address, but nothing about how her friends were doing. She said it would be best for her to see for herself, but it causes anxiety to rise in Kotori’s stomach.

Umi and Honoka are living together. That fact alone, the only thing Kotori knows about them right now, is enough to put her slightly at ease; they’re still close, even though Honoka always used to annoy Umi with their contrasting personalities. But Kotori knows, deep down, they have just as deep a bond with one another as they did with her. _Did_. The past tense makes her shiver.

The house is small and quaint, nothing flashy – Umi must have picked it out, she thinks, as she smiles fondly once more. She raises a hand and, taking a deep breath, knocks three times on the door.

It’s a few seconds before the door opens to reveal a woman very much like Umi, the same long navy hair, the same face… Kotori has not much more time to take in her appearance, because she embraces her in a tight hug, choking out the word _“Umi”_ into her shoulder as tears rise to the surface of her eyes. Umi stands in shock for a few moments before hugging her equally as tight back.

They stand like that for about thirty seconds, Kotori sobbing into Umi’s shoulder and Umi tightening her grip on Kotori every few seconds, as if she’s scared to let go. Eventually they pull away, and get a good look at one another for the first time.

The first thing Kotori notices about Umi that she failed to before is how tired she looks. There are dark circles under her dull eyes, making Kotori feel a little pool of worry in the pit of her stomach. “Umi…” her voice is soft and gentle, approaching the topic carefully. “You look tired.”

“I…I apologise.” Umi sounds exhausted as well. “I-I did not know you would be here, and… I have not been sleeping too well.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” The conversation is formal, _far_ too formal for them. She looks at Umi, her best friend, the girl she always used to be able to talk to, now standing in an awkward silence before Kotori decides to speak. “Where’s Honoka?”

Umi looks a little startled, and then relaxes slightly. “I… She’s here, wait a moment…” Umi turns around and calls out into the house. “Honoka! Come out here for a second, please!”

Kotori braces herself. She doesn’t know how Honoka will react.

But it’s less of a question of how Honoka would react. As the ginger-haired girl comes into view, Kotori feels as though her heart has stopped. Her hands, without realising, reach up to clasp over her mouth as she looks down. Her whole body runs cold, and her mind scrambles, eyes flicking around in front of her as she tries to take in the situation.

Honoka, the same girl that used to jump around everywhere, run up the stairs on the way to school, win every sprinting race in gym, now sits atop a wheelchair, looking up in equal shock at Kotori. Her hair is the same style it usually is, left down with a section tied off to the side with the same ribbon as usual. Her face is a lot paler than it used to be, and her eyes have lost the light that always kept Kotori and Umi motivated through any struggles. Instead, she looks void of emotion, except for the obvious shock of seeing Kotori again after so long. She looks frail, fragile, as if one touch will break her. It’s breaking Kotori, to see her best friend like this, the girl she’s known since childhood. Honoka frowns for a moment, however, her face quickly relaxes into a smile and she wheels herself closer.

“Kotori.” It’s as if the life, the energy from her voice has faded away, leaving only a slight hint to the old Honoka left behind. “It’s been so long. I…” She looks down and smiles, a sad smile, not like the old cheerful smiles she used to flash around at everyone who passed. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Honoka…” Kotori looks down, her eyes displaying a contrast of happiness and sadness and somehow managing to keep their gaze on Honoka. “I’ve missed you both so much, I… I can’t believe…”

“Wouldn’t expect me to have landed myself in a wheelchair, huh,” Honoka laughs, but it’s not a genuine laugh. It’s a hollow laugh, as if there’s some joke hidden within that she expects people to understand. Or maybe she isn’t expecting anything. Maybe she’s just laughing to convince herself that she’s the old Honoka as well. Kotori feels like her heart is breaking a little every time Honoka speaks. “Then again, I’ve always been the careless one. Remember when we all got stuck up that tree? You two were scared shitless, but me… I lived for that kind of adventure.” She looks down at her legs. “I won’t be able to climb trees anymore, but I still dreamed of one day all going on an adventure together. But it’s progressively getting less likely. One day, I must have given up altogether. But… here you are.”

“Here I am.” Kotori isn’t quite sure how she’s managing to speak without her voice cracking, but Honoka looks happy to see her. Umi, despite her exhaustion, smiles fondly at the two, as if reminiscing about their childhood together. When everything was peaceful, when Honoka bounced around like a ball of energy and Kotori and Umi trailed helplessly behind her, but they were still having _fun_. Now, it seems like the idea of a happy catch-up session is so far out of reach they aren’t even going to attempt it.

“We can talk more over some tea,” Umi says. “It’s good… for calming the nerves.” The slight hesitation between her words, as if she meant to say something else, but she shakes her head and leads everyone to the kitchen, Honoka wheeling behind her.

Kotori takes in the sight of the house. It’s messy, papers all over desks and tables and old takeaway left out in the living room. Kotori crinkles her nose at the smell of… Chinese takeaway, perhaps, which has been left alone on the brown coffee table. The kitchen is slightly nicer, a calendar laid out, but nothing filling any of the spaces except for medical appointments for Honoka. It’s almost sad to see that it’s the only thing they have going on this month – just appointments and regular check-ups on Honoka’s condition. Upon closer look, the papers scattered over the small dining table are all medical-related as well. Kotori wonders how they keep up with the medical bills, when an obviously overdue bill paper shows her that they’re struggling to.

Umi begins to prepare tea as Honoka wheels herself over to the table and beckons for Kotori to take a seat. “This town is the same as ever, huh,” Kotori says, the tremble in her voice evident to everyone in the room as a sign of how nervous she is to progress in the conversation.

“It hasn’t changed. Just… more drug dealers, and incidents of gang fights,” Honoka explains. “It’s like everyone’s given up on keeping the town’s reputation clean. Now it’s just known as a dump, for miles around. It’s a wonder anyone still lives here, but I guess we’re all too poor to escape.” There’s the laugh again. The hollow, forced laughter, which does nothing to brighten the mood, only dampen it further.

“As my dad would say, money makes the world go round,” Honoka continues, her brows furrowing ever so slightly at the mention of her dad. Kotori wonders where he is, but, considering Honoka’s state, she knows better than to ask personal questions at this moment. “It’s true. We’re left behind here because we don’t have the funds to leave, so we’re stuck in this dump that no one’s trying to redeem. I guess it could be worse.”

Umi comes to the table with a tray, which is helpful, because Kotori really has no idea how to respond to Honoka’s pessimism. It’s something she’d never expect to hear from Honoka; she was always hopeful in the past, determined. Now she’s just empty. Umi pours them all some tea, and Kotori adds milk and sugar to her taste. She watches as Umi prepares Honoka’s tea. Honoka moves her arms as if it’s painful to do so, and takes the mug, holding it close to her lips and sipping. Her movements are so slow and robotic, so different to the Honoka she knows that she can only catch herself staring at the same time her friend does.

“This must be pretty shocking, mustn’t it?” Honoka asks, but it doesn’t really sound like a question. More of a statement. It’s as if she’s talking more to herself than to Kotori. The amber-eyed girl merely nods slightly and takes a sip of her tea, despite it scorching her throat. Honoka places hers down on the table carefully.

“Sit, Umi. I’ll explain to Kotori what happened.”

Umi shoots her a look as if to say _‘are you sure?’_ but, upon seeing Honoka’s face, looks back down and sits at the table, pouring her tea but not drinking it. Kotori watches as Honoka readies herself to speak, taking a sip of tea before doing so.

“A few months after you left, my parents split up. My mother eloped with some man and left town with my sister, leaving only me and Dad at home. Dad was… really sad. He was lonely, and I didn’t know if there was any way I could help, so I just stayed as I usually was, bright and happy, even though I was just as lonely. Umi helped me, though. Losing contact with Yukiho was… upsetting, to say the least, but I figured as long as I had Umi and you, even if I could only talk to you via text message, I’d be okay.”

Kotori feels guilt rise up in her chest. She knows where the story goes, roughly.

“It was just a question of my dad. He didn’t really have any friends except for his colleagues, and even then they rarely went out together on weekends, only on some nights to celebrate something at work. And he stopped going out for those, as well. He became a recluse and we lived off takeaways. A year later, in the middle of third year… that was when it happened.”

Everyone at the table is silent for a moment, Honoka sipping some more tea and Umi keeping her gaze focused on the fruit bowl in the centre of the table. Kotori sits, eyes trained on Honoka to show that she’s listening, although there’s really no doubt that she is. Honoka doesn’t meet her gaze.

“I was studying for exams. I never noticed how upset he was getting. Instead, I became more and more stressed, and that stress built up and I wanted to leave. One day he asked me if anything had been bothering me lately, and I told him I felt trapped. He asked if I wanted to go anywhere, and I told him I wanted to go camping for a weekend. So he arranged a camping trip and we went. We had a good time. I could forget about exams for a couple of days, and he could forget about his troubles as well. We spent time on the beach and in the forest and explored the area, then we packed up to go home.”

Honoka frowns, as if this part of the story is difficult to tell. Kotori knows they’re getting closer to the actual accident, and so she patiently waits until Honoka’s prepared to keep on talking.

“On the way home… I don’t know what came over me. I started crying, and I broke down, and suddenly I was yelling at him and I don’t know why. He didn’t say anything. He just took it, took all the abuse I was screaming at him and I can’t even remember what I was saying. Then I said something. I told him it was no wonder Mum left when he’s so pathetic. And then he suddenly cried out, and the car swerved and we kept spinning and suddenly we crashed and everything went white and happened all at once.”

Honoka tightens her grip on her mug, and Kotori chokes back a sob. Honoka’s voice dies down a little as she calms slightly.

“The last thing I felt before I passed out was them lifting me out of the car, and the last thing I saw before everything went white was my dad in front of me. He threw himself in front of me so I wouldn’t be hurt as bad as he was. In the hospital, I woke up and I couldn’t feel my legs. They told me I’d never be able to walk again. I asked them where my dad was. He’d died immediately. His neck was broken by the tree he slammed into, and thanks to him, instead of being thrown into a tree, I was thrown onto him. If he hadn’t been there, I… I would have died, for sure. Instead, I just paralysed the lower half of my body. They said… it was a miracle, that I didn’t hurt myself elsewhere apart from scarring all over my torso and some on my face.”

She points at a faint scar on her left cheek, as if reminding herself it’s there. She trails her index finger over it and lets out a soft sigh.

“I had to wait ages to heal up. They arranged Dad’s funeral, and… when my mother found out, she was distraught. That’s what Yukiho said. She blamed herself, and started stressing out. Turns out the guy she’d eloped with had been emotionally abusive, so she was a lot more mentally unstable than she had ever been before. When she showed up at the funeral and I was there in a wheelchair… it was too much for her. She broke down and we hadn’t even reached the grave. She told me she loved me and Yukiho stood there in complete shock while she cried over me. The funeral was no better. She couldn’t stop crying. When it was over, and I was released from hospital, they tried to send me to live with her. But I… refused.”

Kotori frowns. Honoka refused to live with her mother?

“I didn’t want to leave Umi.”

Umi’s face clouds over with guilt, as if she’s been waiting for this line and only responds when it’s spoken. How many times has Umi heard the story of the accident? Honoka sounds like she’s told it millions of times, but as the story progresses, she grows more and more uncertain-sounding, leading Kotori to believe that she’s stepping into uncharted territory, parts of the story she’s only told to Umi.

“I stayed with my grandmother, and it was… pretty difficult, to say the least. I had to stop going to school and instead took up an online course. I did my exams on there, but my grades were… hardly sufficient. As soon as she could, Umi found us a home together and promised to take care of me. I haven’t heard from my mother since, though Yukiho sends emails occasionally. She says that… my mother still blames herself, but they’re working through it. She’s been to counselling and everything.”

Honoka looks like she doesn’t have much else to say, so Kotori opens her mouth to speak, until her friend adds something on.

“Our medical bills are high. I have to go to the hospital a lot. I have to get check-ups and every time they remind me that I can’t walk. I can’t feel my legs, but it feels like I’m _supposed_ to feel them. But I can’t. It’s really frustrating. The doctor called it ‘phantom limb’, but even that term isn’t right. My legs are there. I just can’t feel them. They’re numb. Phantom limb is when the limb is missing but you feel like it’s still there. It’s… different. But it’s the closest definition I’ve got.”

Honoka sighs, as if saying all this tired her out, and Kotori can’t blame her. It’s quite the story, and taking it all in, thinking about how while she was studying fashion design abroad and having fun and learning and making friends, Honoka was suffering. Umi became an exhausted, empty shell of a woman with dark circles under her eyes, and Honoka has to live with knowing that she’s the cause of it.

Kotori interlaces her fingers, trying to find something to distract her from the sudden silence in the room. How can she speak, after having everything unloaded onto her all at once? But, she doesn’t have to speak. Umi begins collecting up empty teacups and loading them onto the tray, and Honoka wheels away from the table.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” she asks. “How long are you gonna be in Otonokizaka for, anyway?”

“Oh, I…” _I don’t know. I was too excited to see you again than anything._ “I figured… maybe just a couple of days, I don’t know, but… if it’s a hassle, I can leave, it’s fine-”

“Relax, Kotori.” Honoka smiles, a little less forced than the previous times. “I want to catch up with my best friend. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken in person, and I want to hear all about the course you’ve done. How about we go somewhere nice? One of the few nice places in this town.” She closes her eyes, as if picturing the perfect place in her mind. “Let’s go to the tree. The one we climbed when we were kids. By the playground. There’s a nice path we can go down.”

“Okay,” Kotori agrees. She turns to Umi. “Umi, are you…?”

“You guys go ahead,” Umi says, her voice drained of all emotion. “I have some things to take care of. Work, and everything…”

Kotori worries about Umi. In the panic of Honoka’s condition, she forgot to think about Umi’s struggles as well. She’s been taking care of Honoka all by herself, working to pay for the medical bills and sustenance for them, all while neglecting to take proper care of herself. Her navy hair is lazily tied into a side-braid, and she wears a simple grey shirt that’s too big for her and black leggings. She’s lost weight, as well. She looks sickly; if she’s not careful…

Kotori’s distracted by a warmth against her hand. Honoka’s clutching it, and she smiles up at her best friend. “Let’s go, then. You and Umi can talk after I’ve gone to bed. She can… explain things further. For now, let’s focus on you.”

Kotori nods, and leaves the house, beginning to tell the story of what’s been going on over the years as Honoka listens, a gentle smile on her face as she stares out at the slowly setting sun, wheeling across as Kotori keeps a steady pace beside her. It’s times like these where she’s reminded of how nice it used to be, when she and Honoka and Umi were high school students and could hang out with each other without any stress in the world other than upcoming exams or presentations in class. Now there was work, the future, Honoka’s condition, bills, money. So much more weight on their shoulders than their carefree days.

Kotori wonders what it would have been like had she not left Otonokizaka. Had she not pursued her dream of becoming a fashion designer in favour of her friends, staying behind. Would Honoka have still demanded to go camping? Would her father have died, and would she have paralysed her legs? Would Umi be in her own home, working a normal job rather than overworking herself and returning home to a girl in a wheelchair who’s been alone all day? And, even if Honoka had still been paralysed, would Kotori’s support have taken a load off Umi?

She feels guilty. It’s hard not to, knowing that all this happened after she left. And to think, everything was so perfect before…

They reach the tree, where they spent a lot of time in their childhood. Kotori hums softly to herself, staring out at the sunset. Honoka remains quiet, but looks out at the same sunset, with the same soft expression on her face. No words need to be exchanged. They understand. The comfortable silence that falls between the friends is so different to the tension back in the house. Worries melt away for a moment, as Kotori breathes in the air of Otonokizaka, feeling memories from her childhood float back to her – from eating sweets in Honoka’s family bakery to helping Honoka study for exams to Umi and Honoka’s light-hearted bickering.

It all seems so faraway, so distant, when really, she’s standing right here, on the ground where she stood when she was just a tiny child, following dumbly after Honoka to climb the tree. Turning her head to see Umi peering at them from behind the tree, only for her to squeak and jump back behind it. Their friendship meant so much to Kotori, so much that she feels like the world’s most idiotic person for leaving them. Leaving Honoka to be in that car accident, leaving Umi to have to deal with the strain. Leaving them to watch their lives crash and burn as she was overseas, making her dreams come true.

She knows she’s selfish, even though deep down, she’s aware she couldn’t have predicted any of it. But she was selfish. Back then, when her mother excitedly told her the news, she made a choice. A choice resulting in this. And if she could go back and take back the choice, she would. She would do it in a heartbeat. Because seeing the ache in Honoka’s eyes, the despair in Umi’s… it hurts more than anything.

But, for once she knows, there’s nothing she can do.


	3. bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maki wonders when she'll find herself.

The bell rings, just once, but it’s enough to startle the red-haired girl from her current task. She stumbles on the wooden stool she stands atop, barely preventing herself from dropping the cardboard box. She hears footsteps quickly pattering in her direction, turning to see a familiar blonde-haired girl rushing towards the till to take the customer’s order.

“It’s fine, Eli,” the girl standing on the stool reassures. “I’ll take this one. You p-probably have much more to do than me anyway.”

Eli looks half-grateful for the assistance, but she still furrows her brows. “Are you sure, Maki? I can take this… you’re clearly in the middle of something.”

Maki, as she is called, shakes her head quickly. “I can do it.” As if to prove her point, she steps off the stool and sets the cardboard box on the ground, straightening her back and offering the smallest of smiles to the other girl. “S-See? Now I’m not doing anything. It… it wasn’t that important.”

Eli laughs and rolls her eyes. “How typical of you, Maki. Alright, you’ve won me over. You go and take care of it, and I’ll get back to what I was doing.” With a cheerful smile and a wave, Eli leaves to the back of the store again.

Stepping out towards the till, Maki sees the customer, a middle-aged woman in her forties or so, clasping her purse tightly in her hands. Upon seeing Maki emerge from behind the counter, her face brightens considerably. “Oh, you are so young! How lovely to see young people setting up flower shops in Otonokizaka, of all places. Lord knows this place could use some brightening up.”

“W-We decided this was the best location,” Maki explains, and cuts off the topic there. “How may I help you, miss?”

The woman claps her hands together (though, with the presence of the purse, it only makes a dull thudding noise) and smiles. “I’d like to get a bouquet arranged for my daughter’s engagement party. Is that possible at the moment?”

“I c-can certainly try, ma’am,” Maki says lightly, scratching the back of her head nervously. “I… I can’t promise I’m the best at arranging bouquets…”

“What’s this modesty I hear, hmm?” Eli emerges from the storage room, causing both Maki and the woman in front of the counter to jump a little. Maki flinches as Eli swoops past her, and the blonde girl looks back at her almost apologetically before continuing, aiming her words mainly at the woman.

“Maki is amazing at arranging bouquets, I assure you. She’s merely modest.”

Blushing, Maki shakes her head. “Y-You’re just too fond of flattery, Eli,” she responds, half-jokingly. Eli places a delicate hand over her mouth and giggles, a pleasant sound that fills the store, making it feel even brighter than the flowers. She’s perfect for the theme of the shop – pastel colours, like her light eyes and fair hair, and flowers to match the elegance of her name and the way she speaks. Maki feels like the polar opposite, red hair and violet eyes, her voice slightly rough around the edges and nasally. She remembers what he used to say about her appearance. Some days it would be an overload of praise, about how beautiful her eyes are, how she has the body of a goddess, and other days… not so much.

She closes her eyes almost painfully and turns to face the flowers rather than Eli and the customer. As if noticing her sudden mood change, Eli quickly changes the subject and begins asking the customer what kind of bouquet she wanted, whilst buzzing around the store to collect flowers for the display. Maki stands in silence for a few moments before heading back into the storage room.

Earlier that day, they had a visitor. Maki heard the conversation from where she stood in the storage room; she wonders what the girl looked like. Eli explained afterwards that the visitor was the owner of the tattoo parlour across the road, which made Maki chuckle a little. Toujou’s. Of course, she’d seen the parlour in pictures of the area when they were deciding, but when she saw it in real life, its dark colours contrasting perfectly against the pastel theme of Hana’s, she almost laughed. Almost.

Her first impression of Otonokizaka was that it had potential. She knows everyone calls it a dump, but there’s so much potential hidden behind the lack of care the town council gives to it that it makes the redhead want to take control of the town herself and fix the issues. But she has neither the influence nor the public speaking skills to go for the position of a council member, so she’s stuck trying to brighten up the place a little with a pretty flower shop.

Personally, she thinks Eli’s insane for trying to set up shop here. Like anyone in Otonokizaka cares about making their homes look pretty with flowers anymore – this woman wants a bouquet for her daughter, and even she mentioned that the place could do with livening up. She’s the first customer they’ve had aside from the Toujou girl, who didn’t even buy anything and, from what Maki saw out the window, lit a cigarette as soon as she left the shop.

The familiar sight of someone placing a cigarette between their teeth and flicking the lighter on sent a rush of memories through Maki’s head, and Eli had noticed a second too late. Nevertheless, she had rushed the redhead back into the storage room and given her a task to do. In her opinion, her cheerful companion wastes too much energy trying to make sure Maki feels comfortable, and doesn’t even give any care towards herself. She’s never seen Eli make any kind of selfish request; from what she knows, Eli does everything to make others happy, bearing no regard toward herself.

She rests her head against the side of a shelf, the muffled sound of Eli’s bright chitter-chatter as she prepares the bouquet the only thing keeping her grounded as she taps her foot against the ground subconsciously. Her heart rate’s picked up slightly, for whatever reason – maybe it’s just one of those random triggers that sends her into a whirlwind of emotions, sometimes even causing panic attacks.

It’s been a thing that happens frequently ever since he left. Somewhere in her mind, she hasn’t picked up on the fact that not everyone in the world is like him, so every time someone moves their hand too close to her, or raises their voice louder or jokingly slaps her on the back… every little thing that most people find normal, she flinches at. And as soon as she flinches, or backs away from conversation, or squirms when someone raises their voice or seems angry at her, it’s practically inviting them to ask why. It’s a story she doesn’t want to tell. Over time, she’s grown used to making excuses for her jumpy attitude.

It’s a few minutes before she hears the familiar ting of the door closing and Eli’s humming as she busies herself with some business around the counter. Maki takes a deep breath and steps out of the storage room, her blonde-haired companion looking up and smiling upon her arrival.

“Calm?” she asks, not taking any step closer to Maki, staying at a comfortable distance. Her smile is enough to calm her down.

“Yeah,” the redhead responds, scratching the back of her head nervously. “I-I’m sorry for kind of… freaking out, back there.”

“There is no need to apologise,” Eli says, and rests her hands on the counter-top closing her eyes peacefully. Maki notices how she moves with such elegance, swift movements and a calm expression clouding her face at all times. Everything about her is so graceful, it’s hard to believe the two are friends, when Maki’s movements are so jittery, sudden, and she stutters when she speaks and flinches when someone’s hand moves close to her. “These things happen. You shouldn’t feel the need to apologise for getting yourself out of an uncomfortable situation.”

Maki feels a smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Eli. T-That… makes me feel a lot better.” She can’t help the slight stumble on her words, and furrows her brows, willing her minor speech impediment to go away. She knows it’s a side-effect of her anxiety, and she wishes it wasn’t – it makes formal meetings with people pretty awkward when she’s stuttering and stumbling all over the place.

Eli turns and opens her eyes, revealing beautiful sky blue rings. Flashing Maki the usual bright smile, she turns to look out the window. “Oh, it’s getting near evening. Shall we close up shop for the night and head upstairs?”

Maki nods. They’ve set up their apartment upstairs – of course, it’s not fully furnished, but it has the bare necessities, and they’ve got some sort of meal for the night, which Eli is going to cook. Obviously. Maki’s never been that good at cooking, so she relies on the taller girl – a little too much, at times. She wonders where she’d be without Eli’s guidance. Whether it’s heading up to the counter at shops and paying for her items, or answering the phone, or handling customers… Eli’s always there to step in if Maki needs it. She doesn’t know how to repay her, but she certainly plans on doing so.

They retreat upstairs, Eli laying out the ingredients for dinner and Maki taking a seat on their plush new sofa they just about scraped up the money to purchase. The upper floor of the building has a new, fresh smell to it, but it doesn’t smell like home. It feels uncomfortable – the sofa scratches at her arms as she rests one against it and the air is a little too cold for comfort. As if sensing her friend’s discomfort, Eli retrieves a blanket from a cardboard box and lays it over Maki’s shivering body, earning a thankful nod from the red-haired girl.

Grabbing the remote, Maki flicks across a few channels before settling on a new drama series. She hears the occasional clanging of pots and pans as Eli gets to work on cooking, and the atmosphere fades into a calm, tranquil home, sunlight no longer shooting through the curtain-less windows and instead a hazy orange breaking through the glass windows, fading further and further from evening to night. They eat dinner, a delicious curry, and head to bed. Maki sleeps on a mattress on the floor of the bedroom and Eli decides to take the sofa for the night.

They sleep, two lost girls in a new town, a contrasting flower against murky surroundings, wondering just what the town of Otonokizaka has to offer.

~~~

Her fingers tap on the counter idly, violet eyes caught in a trance as she stares at a shelf directly in front. There’s a small sigh from beside her as Eli traces the tip of her pen over a sheet of paper; there’s something printed on the paper in small text, and a line where she’s meant to sign. She doesn’t sign. She hesitates, and then places the paper down and stretches her arms with a yawn.

Mornings with Eli are odd. She’s so quiet, sleepy in the mornings that it’s hard to think it’s the same girl who smiles cheerily at customers and brightens people’s days just through carefully-selected words. Of course, after she’s brewed her next coffee and downed it, she’ll be back to normal – but for a moment, it’s nice to see a different side of Eli, one which isn’t so… painfully optimistic, in contrast to Maki’s irritating pessimism.

Eli brews her coffee. Maki makes herself busy arranging shelves which don’t need to be arranged. The store is silent, as if the air is taunting them for setting up shop in such a remote environment. When the bell rings, Maki stops in her tracks, nearly dropping the plant pot from her shaking hands. Eli’s at the back of the store; surely she cannot hear the bell chime. It is her responsibility to answer now. With a deep inhale, the crimson-haired girl steps out to greet the customer.

What she doesn’t expect is a short, black-haired girl who clearly belongs to the tattoo parlour opposite. Her eyes are a deep red colour, quite as interesting as Maki’s own violaceous ones, and she has almost a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. Maki tries to remember if she’s seen her before, but she doesn’t seem familiar.

“May I help you?” she asks, out of courtesy. It’s the only thing she’s rehearsed over and over until she hasn’t stuttered on it. After a while, her traditional customer dialogue will be over and she’ll have to tackle the conversation on her own.

“I’m from the tattoo parlour ’cross from here,” she says, her stance very much laid-back as she looks around. “Cute place you got here. The name’s Nico. Yazawa Nico.”

“Nishikino Maki,” the redhead responds, trying not to twitch at the word ‘cute’. That’s what he always called her. _Cute_ , when she was angry and trying to defend herself – _“it’s so cute when you’re all mad at me”_ – she was cute when she was completely defenceless at his mercy, she was still cute when she was covered in bruises and hickeys and even the occasional scar. Somewhere along the course of her life, the word ‘cute’ has lost its original meaning. Even now, she has a hard time conjuring up the association of the word with positive, beaming rays of sunlight, people who radiate warmth, freckles, large eyes, whatever people refer to as ‘cute’. She always thinks they mean powerless, submissive, something they can take by force; she doubts it’ll ever return to normal.

“Are you here to purchase something?” she continues cautiously, remembering the lines she rehearsed with Eli. It was quite awkward, but the blonde-haired girl made it easier for her. She walked into the store, pretending to be an absent-minded customer, as Maki approached to guide her around the store as Eli picked out certain things she wanted to know more about. It was half a test on her knowledge of the flowers in case customers asked, and half practice for taming Maki’s social anxiety when it came to dealing with customers.

“Just browsing,” Nico responds, lazily drawing manicured nails over a brown plant-pot. “Some pretty flowers here. You do bouquets?”

Maki shifts her weight and nods.

“That reminds me, it’s my mother’s birthday next week,” Nico muses, touching a petal on one of the flowers.

“Are you going to buy her a present?” Maki asks, cautiously.

Nico laughs. “Like hell I will. Haven’t seen her since I was sixteen, and that’s how I’d like to keep it. Little bitch couldn’t stay off the drugs long enough to raise her own child.” She pauses and removes her hand from the flower. “Then again, I’m one to talk about drugs, aren’t I?” With a sarcastic laugh, she turns back to face a very uncomfortable Maki. As if noticing this, she changes the topic rapidly, which Maki is thankful for.

“What’s this?” she asks, pointing out a specific flower. Maybe she’s genuinely curious, or maybe she just picked out the first thing she saw to shift the conversation over to something new. Either way, Maki explains.

“It’s a carnation,” she says. “Well, the proper term is _Dianthus caryophyllus_ but… that’s difficult to pronounce.”

Nico raises an eyebrow.

“It’s most likely native to the Mediterranean region, but the exact range is unknown due to extensive cultivation over the past two thousand years,” she says, looking down at the flower as she speaks and reciting the facts she pulled from Wikipedia. She is interested in flowers, to some extent – but the main reason she chose to start this shop was because Eli needed a hand, and she needed an escape. It all worked out for the two of them.

“Interesting,” Nico says, though Maki has a sinking feeling she isn’t really interested in what she’s saying. She continues, though, determined to make it through the information on carnations.

“Carnations express love, fascination and distinction, though there are many variations based on colour,” she carries on, delicately touching the pink flower. “This specific carnation is naturally coloured, but cultivars of other colours like red, white, yellow and green have been developed as well.”

“What do they need to grow?”

“They require well-drained, neutral to slightly alkaline soil and full sun,” Maki says, surprised by Nico’s sudden question, but recalling the facts that have been ingrained into her mind by evenings spent practicing for when a real customer asks her something. “It’s produced in Columbia; that’s the largest carnation producer in the world. It’s also the birth flower for those born in January, in case you know anyone who was.”

“I was born in July, so that’s kind of lost on me,” Nico laughs lightly. “You really seem to know your stuff about flowers, Nishikino Maki.”

Blushing, Maki waves a hand in dismissal. “No, no, I just did a lot of research. I haven’t done any extensive studying. Just enough information to let the customers know what kind of flowers they’re purchasing. Eli is the real vault of information between us.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” Nico says, before lifting her wrist to her face. “Shit, gotta go. Nozomi will be pissed that I took so long. Tell that Eli chick I’ve been around.” She turns and begins to walk towards the door.

Startled, Maki gives a slight wave, despite Nico not being able to see her. “O-Okay.”

Nico stops at the doorway, turning around to speak. “Come by the parlour someday. Who knows, maybe I’ll be giving you a tattoo sometime. You’d look good with one.”

“I-” Maki gapes, opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish, and Nico giggles at her expression.

“I’m kidding, but you should really consider it. I can picture it now.” She gives an almost analytical gaze towards Maki, eyeing her up and down as the red-haired girl blushes with vulnerability. Of course, Nico can’t know that Maki can’t stand people paying such close attention to her, but she still shuffles awkwardly before Nico grins. “Flowers all the way up your arms and legs – you’d look like a goddess.” Maki averts her gaze quickly - _that would draw too much attention..._

Shrugging, Nico opens the door. “Just food for thought,” she calls out with a wave before the door shuts, Maki breathing a sigh of relief at her departure. It was odd, to hold a conversation with someone other than Eli for a while, but it’s drained her more than she’s comfortable with.

As Eli reappears, humming brightly to herself, she spots Maki and immediately her face clouds with worry as she quickly approaches the redhead. “Was there a customer here? I thought I heard voices…”

“Y-Yeah. The girl from the tattoo parlour.”

“Nozomi?”

“No, the other one.” Maki shrugs. “Her name’s Yazawa Nico. She was asking about the carnations.”

“I see.” Eli brightens. “Did she buy one? Did she ask any questions?”

“She… asked, but she never bought. She realised she needed to get back to the tattoo parlour, then… then she…”

Eli cocks her head to the side curiously. “She…?” She’s expecting Maki to tell her now.

The crimson-haired girl shakes her head. “Never mind. She told me to tell you she’d been here, anyway.”

Eli smiles. “We should go and visit the parlour sometime. I’m sure it’s a lovely place, despite the… obvious dark theme to it.” Her smile falters only slightly. “We really are out of place in Otonokizaka, but don’t worry about it. We’ll brighten up this gloomy town in no time. I’ve always believed flowers can make even the toughest of people soften up just a little. We could make our own bouquets and take them over to the parlour. I’m sure it would warm their hearts, even if just a little. It’s the whole purpose of me setting up shop _here_ of all places, despite all the concerns from other people upon this decision.”

Maki nods slowly.

“And I’ve already saved one person,” she says, looking at Maki fondly. “Even if you’re the only person I ever manage to help, one is enough. That’s one entire life changed just by my actions, which is powerful enough to make me proud of myself. I helped you escape from something horrible, and for that… I am happy. I am so happy I could do that for you.”

“I…” Maki fiddles with her thumbs absent-mindedly, shying away from the subject that’s been brought up. But Eli’s smile, so genuine-looking, brings her to speak back to the blonde-haired angel. “I am… very grateful… as well.”

She is grateful. If you had told her even five months ago that she’d be working in a new town in a flower shop with her friend, she’d never believe it. Back then, she didn’t know if there was an escape. She didn’t know if she could ever run away from him, because every time she tried to leave, he’d do something to make her come back. He’d always shift between being her worst nightmare and her purest dream – he pulled and manipulated her until she was a broken shell, nothing but a figure darkened by his overpowering shadow.

It scares her, how much she changed from him. How much he manipulated her, so much so that she’s forgotten who she really is. Was there ever a time where she smiled freely, dressed in whatever she wanted without fear of disappointing him? Was there ever a time where her body remained unmarked, unscathed by any bruise or cut or wound? She can’t remember, and that’s what terrifies her.

She can’t remember how it feels to speak without stuttering, not flinch at every sudden movement of anything, not feel scared when walking alone even during the day. She wonders how it feels to be a normal, functioning human, who doesn’t go through a war in her own mind every day.

She wonders how it feels to be free.

~~~

_“That colour looks awful on you.”_

_He analyses her, walking circles around her as he takes in every detail, every inch of her body, as she stands, his model, his subject, vulnerable to every gaze, every scrutinizing observation._

_“I picked red because it’s your favourite colour,” she says, taking a bead from her pearl necklace between her fingers and rubbing it between to distract herself from the sinking feeling in her stomach. He’s irritated; she can tell from the way he clicks his tongue and sighs, muttering something incoherent under his breath._

_“I want something more like the colour of your hair, not this sickening thing.” He tugs at the hem of the dress and looks at her, intense darkened eyes meeting an averted violet gaze. “Look at me, Maki.”_

_Slowly, she lifts her head up until she’s looking him in the eye, his hand finding its way to her chin somewhere along the line. “Good girl.”_

_She’s learned that, when he says that, it means he won’t do anything bad. Not now. She resists the urge to breathe out in relief, and instead holds her breath, counting to ten before he releases her and she lets out the breath slowly, not wanting to draw his attention to her._

_“I’m not taking you out to dinner like that,” he says. “My mother’s a classy woman. She has good taste. Even she won’t fall for a dress like that. We’ll figure something out. I’ll try find something good in the back of your wardrobe, one she hasn’t already seen. You stay here.” He disappears into the closet, and she remains standing, humbly bowing her head as she looks at the red dress she spent hours picking out from an expensive clothing shop._

_Her best efforts were in vain. Clearly, she just doesn’t have the right fashion sense to choose her own clothing. She prefers it when he picks for her, saving her the stress of what would happen if she gets it wrong. But this time, he stated he “didn’t have the time” to chase around finding a dress for her, so she was tasked with finding one. The fact that the dress she chose after hours of consideration isn’t good enough… she feels deflated, slightly._

_He reappears with a black dress. “Try this one on.” She recognises it – it was what she wore to a party organised by his co-worker. She remembers him getting furious when another guy looked at her cleavage, and took her home early. She remembers the bruises and marks and hickeys she earned that night, and the lesson she was supposed to take from it. Fear spikes her heart as she realises the dress will be just as low-cut as it was last time, and wonders if he’s forgotten, or if he’s just planning on getting mad again so he can put even more marks upon her body._

_“B-But it’s…” She hesitates when she sees his eyes, darkening in the same way it usually does when she’s in trouble. “It’s low-cut…”_

_“Did I ask for your fucking opinion?” he snaps, startling her as he tugs down the zip of the red dress. “Now take it off and put the other one on, and you better hurry the fuck up. My mother doesn’t take kindly to being kept waiting.”_

_He pours himself a champagne as Maki strips herself off the dress, trying to ignore the predatory look he flashes her when she’s bared down to her underwear. She takes the black dress and squeezes into it, realising it’s slightly harder to fit into than it was last year at the party. She furrows her brows in confusion as she attempts to zip up the back, only for it to slide back down._

_She knows she’s fucked when he stands up, approaching her slowly. “Is there an issue?” he questions, but not curiously – he sounds like he knows the answer, and he’s just building up to an outburst._

_“I-It won’t… zip up…”_

_“What the fuck do you mean, it won’t zip up? You’ve gained weight or something? Here, take it off again. Let me see.” He sounds truly angry now, and she’s shuddering in the tight black dress. The room feels ten times colder than it did before when she’s rid of the dress, and the cold air hits her bare, pale skin. She shivers as he looks at her, face contorting into one of anger as he realises._

_“What the fuck?!” he booms, and she flinches as he steps toward her. “I didn’t buy you a fortune’s worth of pretty dresses just for you to go and fucking gain weight, Maki. You’d better get back on fucking track before I’ll beat some fucking sense into your fat ass. Jesus fucking Christ, do you have any self-control?!”_

_She catches sight of herself in the mirror as he rages. She can’t see her ribs anymore. Has she really gained so much weight? The gap between her thighs seems to be growing smaller. She really doesn’t have any self-control, she thinks to herself, staring at the girl in the mirror and feeling the disgrace slowly rising up in her stomach. He’s raging more to himself now, holding the discarded dress in his hand._

_“Look at me,” he commands, and she realises she’s had her gaze on the mirror far too long. She turns back and he looks infuriated. She can’t do it. She can’t look him in the eye, not when she’s been such a failure, not when she’s…_

_“Fucking look at me, you bitch!” She feels a shot of pain on her cheek as he strikes her once, powerful enough to knock her to the ground. “Look at how fucking weak you are. Is this really the kind of woman I want to introduce to my mother? Do you think you’re just entitled to ignore me when I’m fucking talking to you? Huh?!”_

_“N-No…” Her voice is a barely audible whisper. She trembles, hands pressed against the floor of the penthouse suite, tears forming at the corners of her eyes._

_“I can’t fucking hear you!” he yells, and clenches his fists. “Get up. Get up and look me in the fucking eyes.”_

_She scrambles to get back to her feet, still shivering from the cold and trembling from the fear. She wobbles as she tries to regain her balance, before she finally stumbles to her feet and brings her eyes up. He looks even more terrifying when she looks him in the eyes – she can only imagine how pitiful, how useless she looks, how weak she appears to him, tears welling in her eyes and bottom lip quivering in fear._

_“Weak bitch,” he says, and steps back to look at her again. “You’re staying here tonight. I’ll tell my mother you got ill and couldn’t make it. This is the last fucking time you disappoint me, Nishikino Maki, or I swear to God I’ll make you pay. I’ll be sure that’s ingrained in your mind by the end of the night. Got it?”_

_She nods, a muffled choked sob escaping the back of her throat. He ignores her and begins to dial his mother’s phone, leaving her standing in her underwear, staring out of the large apartment window onto the streets of Tokyo, willing herself to stop fucking up, stop being weak, make him proud for once._

_She hobbles to the bathroom, rummaging in cupboards before she brings out something she hasn’t used in a few weeks – a silver scale, measured in kilograms._

_She steps on, looks at the number, and sets her goal. She’ll lose weight, for him. She’ll fit into that dress and go to dinner with his mother and make him proud, or God knows what he’ll do to her. She already knows what’s going to happen that night, and she wants it to be over and done with. She won’t disappoint him again._

_That night, she enters his room fully dressed in the lingerie he bought her last Christmas. That night, she takes every hit, every slur, everything he has to give, and that night she passes out on his bed. That night, she stirs at three in the morning, walks out towards the kitchen, and sits on the cold tiled floor._

_That night, Nishikino Maki cries herself to sleep on the kitchen floor, wondering if she’ll ever be something other than pathetic, lazy, a useless bitch._

_That night, Nishikino Maki knows she won’t._

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for leaving kudos if you have already!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated :)


	4. just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait!! i'll add some more notes at the end but for now, enjoy the chapter :))

There’s an ominous air over the town. She’s grown more and more aware of it over time, from the odd silence that falls around the night-time to the distinct lack of students walking to and from school now that a break has come around. Otonokizaka Girls’ School is a fairly good quality school, but its location ruins its goodness; they made a mistake in choosing to put a girls’ school here. The only public high school is about three miles out of the city, so you only really see schoolgirls around Otonokizaka – ideal for the old perverts who linger around dark alleyways after school hours, waiting for a girl to decide to take a short-cut home. She’s witnessed it. She didn’t help. It’s one of the only things she feels guilty about not doing in this town, other than blowing it up.

If she could, she’d become nocturnal. Otonokizaka at day is marginally uglier than it is at night, and she’d much rather be doing drug deals in the ungodly hours of the night and sleeping during the day than running off three pathetic hours of sleep every night and going to a crappy job in the day.

Some days, she really does wonder why the fuck she is on this planet.

Not all days, though. Of course, she hates the town she lives in, but some days are brighter than others. Today is a business day – she’s getting paid very soon, and it’ll be enough to keep her going for a week or so. Maybe even buy something nice for herself, though she’s never been the type to splash out on luxuries – she’s more frugal, careful with how she handles her money. New expensive clothes, restaurant meals or fancy takeaway has never really appealed to her – nor has things like makeup, hair accessories, and the like. She’s never been big on dressing up, and keeps her hair short, occasionally pinned back from her eyes if she’s working on something and it’s irritating her. Other than that, she barely touches it except to comb it in the mornings to tame it.

She walks, keeping a steady pace as she looks around her. There’s not much new to take in; Otonokizaka is the same dump as usual, and she still feels the same boredom alongside slight sadness (though she’d never admit it out loud) from seeing it. She remembers being raised in this town, back when it wasn’t such a dump and more of a… nice location. For families, and, when she reached high school years, schoolgirls – Otonokizaka Girls’ School had a pretty nice atmosphere before it became overrun by teenage girls addicted to drugs, sex and alcohol. Now after-school clubs are a thing of the past, as far as she knows, contrary to her high school days where she’d take part in sporting activities and clubs after school.

But everyone can agree that Otonokizaka has gone to shit. Which is why she plans on getting out of there tonight. Not with any particular destination in mind, just jumping on the train and going wherever she sees fit. She’ll have the money, after her next deal she’s just about to do – it could always go to her funding to get out for good, but she’s feeling spontaneous tonight. She wants to leave, even if it’s just for a night. Maybe go to a club and wake up in someone else’s bed, preferably someone pretty – her vision can go a little odd when she’s drunk, so many a time she’s woken up next to someone hideous, or someone quite a bit older than her. One time it was a woman in her mid-forties or so, and that was one of many times she swore she’d stop drinking. She never keeps that promise.

Perhaps she won’t get herself so intoxicated tonight she can hardly walk; she knows she’ll end up backing down on that, but it’s a good enough motivation for her to pick up the pace and find her way to the hooded figure leaning shadily against a wall, hood casting shadows over his face to cover himself up. She goes through the same routine; money, hand, drugs, pocket, leave. She tries not to touch his hand at any point during the process – one glimpse under the shadowy hood to look at his face and she’s already disgusted (she swears she sees guacamole in his beard or something).

After the deal is done, and she feels the familiar weight of dirty money in her pockets, she returns to her apartment to a cold draught through the smashed window. Rin rolls her eyes; delinquents in Otonokizaka tended to break into apartments, but she knew there was hardly anything worth stealing; she barely spent any time in the apartment, and unless they were after booze or a crappy TV that was about the same price as a piece of candy, they wouldn’t get what they wanted.

She notices the TV screen is broken. _Damn delinquents must’ve been angry to find nothing of any worth,_ is the immediate thought that comes to her mind – lucky for her, she never watches television anyway. Mainstream media is just dull to her, and she only has a few channels anyway.

Opening the fridge, she finds all the booze stolen. A parting gift from whichever juvenile thieves broke in, she supposes – _guess I’ll have to back down on my promise after all_. Thankful she’d brought her wallet with all her cash in with her instead of leaving it at the mercy of the delinquents, she counts her notes, grimacing at the sheer amount of money she’s made through illegal means. Selling drugs to men with no reason to live. They always seem to be the same; she can’t remember the last time she served a woman, or a man who didn’t have a beard, or anyone remotely average-looking or healthy. Yellowed fingers, rotten teeth and overgrown facial hair were the common traits in her clients, and every time, the sight makes her want to retch. Sure, she’s guilty of doing some drugs herself, but she’s more about selling than taking at the moment – it’s causing her stress to pile up with no release, but as long as she’s putting money into leaving Otonokizaka forever, she doesn’t care.

Rin slams the door behind her as she leaves, as if the dull echo throughout her desolate apartment will change anything – it won’t, of course, as she knows; nobody lives there with her, nobody goes around the area, nobody _gives_ a shit. Doors slamming is the least of their problems when they can hear gang fights and robberies outside their apartments. Realising there’s really nothing she can do to make a point in this messed up town, the girl sighs, ruffling short ginger hair into a scruff across her forehead, ensuring one eye was covered. She’d grown her hair so she could easily cover parts of her face if she wanted to, not because she was insecure, but because she prefers to look scruffy and mysterious. It’s her kind of style, and without any parent or guardian, there’s no-one to stop her.

Outside of her drug deals and short exchanges with her neighbours, she rarely socialises – she realises this as she jogs lightly down the stairs, pushing her hair back in defeat as it scratches at her eye. She had a couple of friends back in high school, and she was pretty heavily involved in sports clubs, but outside of that she was always this lonely shell of a girl. She never minded, and she doesn’t now. She swears by that. She doesn’t need friends in a town she’ll be leaving as soon as she has the cash – she feels pity for anyone who’s tied down here, perhaps by a romantic partner, family, a friend. All she wants is to be free.

And freedom is exactly what she’ll get.

Smashed bottles and litter lie on the pavement, and every once in a while she kicks the glass shards or crushed cans around, the sound resonating through the empty streets. She hears the drunks, in the distance, perhaps a street or two away – as usual, they sing songs in warbles, oblivious to the dump around them and lost in their intoxication. _Pathetic_. It’s useless to get drunk so early, when the night is still young; at this rate, they’ll be passed out before midnight comes around. As she passes a particularly loud group as she nears the centre of town, she shoots them all a cold gaze, which is met with slurred cheers and whoops.

“Heeeyyyy,” one pot-bellied, bearded man drawls, his breath reeking of liquor as he comes closer to the smaller, nimble girl. “Yooouuu here to pa-rtyyy?”

_Gross_. Rin slaps his hand away and, deciding that isn’t enough, whacks the green-tinted bottle out of his grasp. The man growls in frustration as the half-empty bottle smashes and liquor pours out into the drain, sinking into the pavement.

“Wellll, look at you, lil’ Miss…” he pauses to retch a little, “Fucking shit…”

_So drunk off his head he doesn’t even know how to form a coherent sentence._ Rolling her eyes, Rin looks at the rest of the group. A girl with bleached blonde hair and fake tan wearing a pink, low-cut crop-top is hunched over, vomiting into a gutter, another girl (practically identical except with brunette hair and a black crop-top) holding back her hair for her whilst simultaneously looking nauseous herself. A few more men hoot and holler at the pot-bellied sicko, as if urging on a fight.

“Lil’ girls like you shouldn’t be out in town this late,” the man finally coughs up, pointing a shaky, accusing finger at her. “Yooouu should be… in bed…”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re too drunk to do shit to me.” With a scowl, she steps forward, as if challenging the drunk.

“You don’t wanna pick a fight wi- _fuck_ – with me, missy,” he slurs, picking up a broken shard of glass and waving it vaguely in her direction. “You got a sharp mouth on ya, but y’ain’t strong enough to take me on…”

“Like hell I am,” Rin snarls, clenching her fists. A voice deep inside her mind begs her not to fight, like the final bit of good morals residing within her, but she pushes it away. The man, stumbling a little, raises his fist for a punch, which she easily blocks before kicking her foot up into his crotch, watching him writhe with pain before knocking him to the floor with her foot. The girls shriek and back away, the bleach-blonde one looking ready to throw up again, and the men cheer like it’s funny to watch their friend get beaten up.

She lifts her foot again and brings it back down on the man’s groin, again and again, hearing his guttural cries and begging for her to stop. But she’s too far gone. She feels that mentality take her over again, one she’s familiar with from the days where she used to get into fights on almost a daily basis; where she slips into a state of focus, forgetting her worries, issues, forgetting the world around her and just focusing on the pain, the cries and screams of her opponent, the pleading and the tears. A sadistic smile spreads over her face as she switches from kicking to punching him around the face, knocking a tooth or two straight from his gum and watching him splutter out blood, his consciousness slowly fading away.

The pattering of footsteps brings her from her headspace right back to reality, and she watches as the man’s friends stumble away, trying to run as best as they can considering their state. Rin knows this is the best time to make her escape. She looks down, gathers up saliva in her mouth and spits on the man’s face, hearing a final grunt before he passes out entirely, and flees the scene, running all the way to her destination just as she hears the ambulance sirens behind her.

_Shit, I got side-tracked_. Sighing, she swings open the door, marching into the bar with the same confidence she always does – if you enter such a place looking timid and unfamiliar, you’re immediately the target of the several creeps who lurk in various corners of the bar. The bartender, recognising her, offers a wave and a grin, to which the girl responds by raising her hand dismissively and sliding onto a barstool to the far left.

The bartender reaches out to offer her a drink, but is interrupted by another figure swaying towards Rin, one far more familiar to the feline-like girl. Sharp, hazel-green eyes flicker up to the girl in front of her, and the ghost of a smile reflects on her face as she cocks her head to the side slightly.

“Hitomi. Didn’t expect to see ya here.”

The charcoal-haired girl raises an eyebrow and takes a drag of the cigarette hanging from her lips. “I was back in town for a bit. Decided to check out some of the local attractions.” Her eyes scan over the room, the subtle meaning of her words making Rin chuckle, ever so slightly.

“I thought you stopped playing around after that freak girl became convinced you were going to marry her… what was her name again? Ranpha?”

Hitomi rolls her eyes. “I had to put down a restraining order. It took so much effort… fucking pissed me off. Just because we slept together once… and she wasn’t even that hot.”

“That’s what happens to players,” Rin teases lightly, making the other girl exhale deeply.

“You know what they say. Old habits never die.” She crushes the cigarette into the nearest ashtray and straightens her back. “Want a drink? The usual, or feelin’ like having a change for today?”

“Hm.” Rin’s eyes trail over the list of drinks thoughtfully, before shrugging. “Surprise me, chef.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Hitomi turns her back and begins preparing a drink as the cat-like girl trails her gaze over the bar. As usual, there are the local perverts eyeing up innocent party girls and engaging in silent competition as to which one they’re undoubtedly going to scare away from Otonokizaka by the end of the night – Rin always likes to stay away from them – and then there are some acquaintances of hers she met through drug dealing, and some regular clients, and then the people just here to party. Everything seems normal, until her gaze reaches the bar itself, and she freezes.

A girl sits, perched atop a barstool. But she isn’t like the party girls. She looks uncomfortable – a neat, short, well-kept mane of light, almost olive-brown hair which falls down to just above her shoulders, the fringe just scraped to the side to barely show her eyes, which are a violaceous colour. She has her fingers awkwardly entwined within each other, resting in her lap as she sits on the stool, legs pressed together and shoulders hunched over a little, looking like she wants to be anywhere but here.

Before Rin has time to call out to her, Hitomi slams a glass in front of her, almost startling her. _Almost_. Pulling the drink towards her, the feline-like girl leans towards Hitomi and mutters, “What’s that girl’s deal?”

She beckons to the olive-haired girl and Hitomi offers a low whistle. “I dunno. She’s apparently untouchable. Her dad’s some big business guy, so he probably owns a hefty portion of this place. Not too sure about the chick, though. Apparently she never talks, or she can’t talk, or some shit like that.”

A snicker escapes Rin’s mouth. “It’s hardly likely the daughter of a rich businessman would never have learned to speak.”

“Maybe her father chose the stock market over her,” Hitomi drawls, taking another drag from a freshly-lit cigarette.

“You’re gonna get lung cancer if you keep that shit up, Hitomi,” Rin points out, gesturing to the cigarette.

“Mm, I’ll quit when I have a stable career and a loving family.”

“So, you’re never gonna quit.”

“Never.”

Too immersed in the moment to scold her, Rin chooses to laugh instead. Her and Hitomi have been friends since childhood, when Otonokizaka was a slightly nicer dump and the two of them still had innocence. In their teenage years, they both went through their rebellious phases together, and both discovered their love for adrenaline rushes and danger. Since graduation, Hitomi started travelling and staying in various acquaintances’ houses, or living on the streets, or occasionally booking out crappy bed-and-breakfast rooms or staying at the houses of girls she picked up at bars. Occasionally, she’ll come back to Otonokizaka. She’s one of the few people Rin feels at home with, since her looks, her voice, her attitude, all remind her of a better time, a more carefree life, despite how Hitomi is just as trapped within the confines of depression as Rin herself is.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rin spots a pervert eyeing up the girl at the bar, who delicately takes out a napkin and pats her face with it, around her mouth after she’d taken a sip from the almost-full drink in front of her. His eyes trail up her legs, and Rin follows where he looks – her flesh is milky white, almost inhumanly pale, and so elegant-looking; she looks as out of place as an angel in the pits of hell, her innocent face, plump cheeks and refined manner a stark contrast to the rough rawness of the bar around her. An almost protective instinct rises up in the cat-like girl’s chest as she sees the pervert subtly move around to check out the chick’s ass. Even though she doesn’t know the girl whatsoever, Rin stands up, not even startling Hitomi, who looks indifferent yet mildly amused as she leans forward to watch the show, not even needing to ask Rin what she’s doing.

“Oi, pervert.” Rin approaches the man, who jumps back into the shadowy corner, startled at his cover being blown. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you, freak.” Grabbing the skinny old man by the arm, she pulls him out of his hiding spot. The raised tone of her voice attracts attention from the bar. She spots the olive-haired girl looking at her in alarm as she clutches the man’s sleeve.

“You got anythin’ better to do than check out girls young enough to be your fuckin’ granddaughter?” she retorts, scowling at the man, whose eyes flicker with danger at her attitude.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re messin’ with here, kid,” he mutters, a threat similar to the drunk man she beat up earlier.

“I think I do.” She grabs his sleeve tighter, managing to grab some flesh on his bony arm along with it, keeping her other arm on stand-by in case he tries to attack. “I think I know exactly who I’m messin’ with. A filthy pervert who has nothin’ better to do with his life than stand around and ogle little girls.”

His eyes narrow and he shoves her off, her grip voluntarily loosening from his arm as she steps back, maintaining eye contact with the creep.

“You wanna pick a fight here, huh?” he growls.

“Bring it on.” _Finally, someone I won’t feel remorse for beating the shit out of._

Ignoring the olive-haired girl’s eyes widening, Rin grabs the man’s wrist and knees him in the crotch, like she did to the man before, feeling a little bored with the repetition. The man seems to have some energy left in his old body, as he leans up and whacks her across the head, causing her to lose balance slightly, enough time for him to stand back up and prepare for another attack.

She moves quickly, dodging his next punch by moving nimbly to the side, getting behind the man and kicking him down to the floor. People begin to watch – some cheer her on, some back away in fear, and the girl at the bar sits, frozen, staring at the scene as if she can’t quite believe it’s happening.

“This-” _kick_ – “is-” _punch_ – “what-” _kick_ – “perverts-” _kick_ – “like-” _punch_ – “you-” _kick_ – “deserve!” She delivers a final blow which knocks the man out, and she hears cheers from around her. Hitomi whistles loudly and claps, and the girl at the bar continues to stare with glassy eyes and a closed-off expression.

“Alright, alright.” Hitomi stands up, clapping her hands slowly. “Congratulations to my good friend Rin over here.” She walks up to Rin, throwing her arm around her casually, the good six inches of height she has over her making the sight almost comical. “Ladies, she’s a real beast in the sheets, so don’t be afraid to hit her up.” With a wink, she sends the bar back to its usual business as the other bartender desperately drags the unconscious body of the man to the disabled toilets.

After a few pats on the back, Rin approaches the girl on the stool, hopping onto the barstool next to her and leaning her elbow on the table with a heavy sigh.

“You come here often?” She turns to face the girl, who stares down at the bar counter with an unreadable expression. It takes a few seconds, as if she’s just processing it, and she shakes her head quickly, trying to shrug the other girl away.

Stretching her upper body, Rin lets out a yawn before slapping her hand onto the counter and ordering another drink. Hitomi pours it for her and passes it over with a wink and a ‘good luck with that one’. If the girl to her left has any opinion or reaction to what Hitomi says, she doesn’t show it.

“The name’s Rin Hoshizora, since you asked so nicely,” Rin states bluntly, making the other girl flinch at her blatant sarcasm. “What about you? Wait, wait, lemme guess.” She looks at the other girl, who tries to keep herself from making eye contact by turning her head ever so slightly to her left.

“You’re makin’ this difficult, but whatever. You look like some kind of flower name or somethin’. Am I right?”

In a hurried, anxious movement, as if she hasn’t got much time left, the girl pulls a card out of her bag and puts it on the table. It’s some sort of identification card, which reads _Hanayo Koizumi_.

“Hanayo. Hana. Close enough.” Rin shrugs and sends the card back to the girl. “Pretty name, though. Suits you. _Koizumi_ sounds pretty neat, like a spy or some shit.” Wondering what the hell she’s rambling on about, Rin shakes her head and downs her glass, ordering another in the blink of an eye.

“I’m not fuckin’ drunk enough for this shit,” she mutters, and Hanayo flinches again. Maybe she’s some kind of precious princess who reacts badly to swear words – whatever her deal is, it’s tiring her out. Rin wonders why she’s even trying so hard in the first place. As if she’d ever be able to hook up with some girl who can’t even formulate words.

A few drinks later, and her head begins to feel a little dizzy. She rests it on the table, but it doesn’t do much to help. She continues to talk nonsense to Hanayo, who dutifully listens and nods in the right places. _At least she can understand words, even if she doesn’t speak them._ Eventually, she vaguely recalls being lifted from the barstool, a warmth pressed against her body and the feeling of leaning against someone as they walk. From then on, her memory fades and her vision goes black.

~~~

A chandelier is the first thing she sees when her eyes open, just halfway, but enough to make out the shape, the golden colour, the grand splendour of the ceiling light which sends the girl into shock as she wonders where she is. _No way I’d have slept with a rich girl, those are one in a million in Otonokizaka._ Groaning, she feels the splitting headache of hangover coming over her quickly, a series of intense throbbing sending her concerns flying out of her mind, replaced with pain and drowsiness. She takes a glance to her left, only to find a glass of water with a couple of tablets on the side. Furrowing her brows, she picks up the water and checks the bottom. There’s nothing inside. It’s probably not laced. Did someone… leave this for her?

The tablets look to be regular paracetamol pills. She pops one into her mouth and downs it with a glug of water, then the second shortly after. In her hazy state of mind, she doesn’t even think about how dangerous it is to take pills you’re unsure of in any way. Though you’ve done some pretty crazy drugs – you’re sure you have some kind of resistance to these things. If it’s any kind of knock-out or sleeping pill, you’ve had encounters with those in the past. You know a bad pill when you take one, and within the next few minutes, you can tell the pill was just regular paracetamol.

That begs the question – who left them out? She vaguely recalls being dragged to this place by someone, but she doesn’t remember who. The satin bedsheets cover her snugly, and the entire room reeks of wealth and luxury. The change of setting from waking up in a rotten apartment takes her by surprise. The bed is so soft, she feels as though she could sink into it at any moment, and gentle classical music plays from somewhere else in the house, soothing her ears a little from the rough, loud music of the bar last night.

The rest of the water disappears, and then she’s left lying in this strangely comfortable bed, in a room containing furniture worth all the money she has. Even the rug looks to be a custom, unique pattern from some exotic culture, probably imported from overseas and made just for the buyer – it’s so peculiar, so different, that Rin almost feels scared as to how she got here. The large curtains are closed and the room is silent, bar the music playing from what seems to be the ground floor of the house. Various paintings are hung up on the wall and ornaments are scattered over the tops of counters and end tables. Rubbing her aching head, the girl can only wonder how much the entire room is worth, let alone the house.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the door creaking open. A short, olive-haired girl comes in, showing the now awake girl a concerned expression in violaceous eyes. When Rin stares directly at her, the girl jolts and averts her gaze, as if eye contact is the single scariest thing to her.

“Mornin’,” Rin offers in her slurred morning tone. “Nice place you got here.”

The girl nods once and hurries toward the bed. She’s holding something in her hand – a notepad and pen? Suspicion rises within the feline-like girl; she hasn’t once heard the girl speak. Either she’s got some kind of major social anxiety or… she physically can’t talk.

The girl begins to scribble on the notepad before showing Rin the page.

_Did you take the medicine?_

It’s the first time the girl has ever communicated a single thing to her, so Rin decides not to joke around with her and instead nods. “Yeah. Thanks.” The last word is uttered out so quietly she’s not sure if the other girl heard her, but the relieved look on her face suggests differently. The girl takes back the notepad and begins scribbling again.

_It is midday soon. Would you like something to eat?_

Midday. _Shit_. Rin scratches the back of her head awkwardly, contemplating whether or not it’s okay to ask for more from this stranger. Instead, she does what she does best – dodges the subject. “H-Hey, what was your name again? Somethin’… Hana… uh, K… shit, I dunno, Kayo?” It’s the first name that comes to mind, though she’s certain that she’s wrong. The girl scribbles again.

_Hanayo._

“Damn, I was close.” Rin shakes her head and sighs, before jolting as the notepad is shoved in her face again.

_You can call me Kayo if you want!_

The expression in her writing makes it easy for Rin to picture a voice speaking to her – she imagines this girl would have a pretty high, delicate voice, but not unpleasant or shrill. She nods. “Alright then, Kayo. Uh… what food do you have here?”

Hanayo looks around, as if food will magically appear from the room, and then settles for writing something else down on the notepad. It’s a strange, unfamiliar way of communication for Rin – she’s certain the girl will know sign language, but assumes no one else does. Of course, Rin doesn’t. She vaguely remembers some useless phrases they taught them in high school, but she never learned it properly. She didn’t see the point, and now she’s beginning to regret that, watching the girl ink out words that other people can naturally say, her handwriting impeccable. She’s definitely the daughter of a wealthy businessman, or whatever it was. Rin’s sure she’s got that fact right.

_We have anything you want, if you ask the butlers._

Rin almost splutters – _butlers_?! What kind of mansion is this to have butlers? She shakes off her shock and nods a little. “Where… where are the butlers?”

_On the ground floor._

Rin attempts to stand, but a soft hand stops her from doing so. She blushes slightly as Hanayo pushes on her stomach for her to lie back down – of course she’d blush, she’s a pretty girl, anyway, and it’s the first time someone’s showed her kindness in months, maybe even a year.

_Ask me for something and I will go and get it for you. You must rest._

“I’m fine. I’ve dealt with hangovers before,” Rin insists, but the girl shakes her head. Damn, for someone so shy, she sure is stubborn. “Uh, fine… um, bacon and eggs would be nice?” She doesn’t remember the last time she ate breakfast, but if she’s here at this wealthy household, she’s determined to make the most of it. Hanayo nods and scurries out of the room. She’s wearing a pretty dress – the top is a silky white with a brown collar and brown buttons, and the skirt is brown with black buttons down the side. Instead of the bare legs she showed at the bar last night, she now wears modest tights, almost opaque, and no shoes. The skirt on the dress appears to have a petticoat fixed underneath, making it bounce lively as she walks out the room, and (totally accidentally) drawing Rin’s eyes to her butt, making her flush a little as Hanayo leaves the room.

_Isn’t that exactly the same thing I beat that old guy up for?_ Rin decides not to reflect on her own hypocrisy and instead leans back, staring at the curtains as if willing them to open and reveal just where she is. Such a nice house can’t exist here, at least not in central Otonokizaka. Perhaps Hanayo took her here in a taxi or something.

When Hanayo returns with a plate of food, Rin’s eyes widen. The first real breakfast she’s had in… how long? She has no idea. She hasn’t even had a proper cooked meal in a month. Trying to keep her cool in front of the girl eagerly watching her, she digs into the meal, attempting to control how fast she eats but ends up finishing the plate in a few minutes. It’s nice; definitely the work of professional butlers. They must be a bitch to afford, but it doesn’t appear like Hanayo’s family has any issues with money, judging from the house and the fact that they have butlers to begin with.

After she finishes, Hanayo picks up the plate and leaves the room. She returns a few moments later with another glass of water and, with the notepad, tells Rin to get some rest before leaving once more. Confused, the cat-like girl lies back down and lets the classical music soothe her a little more until she begins to feel drowsy again.

Even in this state, thoughts whirl around her mind – why is the girl helping her? No one’s ever helped her like this before. You wouldn’t usually take a stranger to your home, help them with their hangover and offer them breakfast and rest, especially not when you live in a house as luxurious as Hanayo’s.

Curiosity overwhelming her mind, the girl’s breathing slowly regulates and she drifts into unconsciousness once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jFC i've been so inconsistent with updates and ik this is like my least popular fic but i got inspired for it and wrote this chapter ^-^ that should be all the girls introduced now!! i don't know who's pov the next chapter will be in, probably kotori or nozomi? idk, lemme know who your best girl in this fic is so far lmao and who's pov you wanna see next chapter
> 
> also if anyone's read battleship as well as this, you'll know how much i love to put n girls in my fics, so expect to see more of them!!


	5. would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nozomi, nico, eli and maki head for a night out in otonokizaka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the infrequent updating!

The sight of it irritates her.

Nozomi leans against the railing on the upper balcony of the tattoo parlour, cigarette pressed between her teeth and gaze set firmly on the shop before her. _Hana’s_. Such a contrast to its environment that it makes her blood boil a little. She doesn’t really have any specific reason for hating it, it just feels _wrong_. It looks wrong, it doesn’t fit in Otonokizaka, it’s _worthless_. Nozomi wonders what the girl at the shop, Eli Ayase’s, goal was when she opened the shop with that ‘Maki’ girl. Did she think she could change Otonokizaka? Make it brighter, bring some sort of realisation to the citizens and make them change their ways? That kind of redemption will never be possible for Otonokizaka, and both the tattoo artists opposite the shop as well as the rest of the city itself know it.

“No-zo-mi.” A sing-song voice sounds from behind her; she doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Nico.” She exhales, watching the smoke form in front of her, clouding the sign reading _Hana’s_ opposite her. She doesn’t know why, but it brings a slight smirk to her face to see it. “I’m busy here.”

“Yeah, you’re busy with your tenth cigarette break while I’m busting my ass downstairs to keep _our_ business running.”

Rolling her eyes, Nozomi drops the cigarette to the floor and stands on it, grinding her foot against the floor to put out the cigarette. _What a waste_. Nico looks unamused, leaning against the doorway and tapping a foot on the ground. Though the twin-tails in her hair just end up making her look like a grumpy child, something Nozomi likes to point out a lot, wondering why the girl doesn’t just take down her hair and make herself look a little older.

The two return to work, inking out designs, booking appointments and dealing with the occasional customer. It’s not a busy day that day, only one customer coming in to actually receive a tattoo and others merely coming in to book appointments or check out the designs. Annoying as Nico may be, Nozomi has to admit she has a knack for selling their designs to people – she has the persuasive technique of a savvy businesswoman mixed in with the right talent to showcase; she’s the one who can talk people into getting tattoos, even middle-aged women who are so afraid of the tattoo gun it’s doubtful that they’ll stay conscious the whole time. Nozomi lacks such a talent. Her speaking and socialisation skills have never been good, not when her family moved around so much – she never formed a close relationship with anyone, no classmates, no friends, not even her own family liked her very much. The closest person she has to her is Nico, and she can’t even refer to her as a friend, more as a business partner, since all the two do is tolerate one another.

Nozomi thinks back to when she and Nico first met. It was, of course, in Otonokizaka – the two had been in the same year of high school and had been in some of the same classes, but they’d never really spoken before graduation. During the graduation ceremony, Nozomi had muttered something under her breath during the principal’s speech – something along the lines of _“like hell I have a future anyway”_ , to which Nico responded with a simple _“me neither, Toujou,”_ and a quirk of her lips. That was the day Nozomi realised she wasn’t alone in her feelings. It seemed like the girls at Otonokizaka all had their lives figured out, and the ones who didn’t were happy to rot away in gutters, high off drugs and heavily intoxicated. Nozomi was caught somewhere in between – she wanted to do _something_ , but she didn’t know what. So when Nico expressed her similarity to Nozomi, the two girls quickly formed a bond, not quite friendship, but something merely for comfort. So they used Nozomi’s intelligence and Nico’s social skills and acquired a building in Otonokizaka to start a business in, and thus Toujou’s Tattoo Parlour was born (the name was so lame, they eventually shortened it to Toujou’s, which is how it’s known around the city now).

Of course, more stuff happened between those details. There were arguments, there were physical fights, but Nozomi thinks their relationship is more or less stable nowadays. They have a system of sorts set up – Nozomi is almost like a mother figure to Nico, scolding her for her wrong-doings but always jumping to her defence if a customer is being particularly mean. Nico has a heart beneath her tough act, but Nozomi has yet to see her show genuine care for someone. She’s bratty, annoying, and difficult to deal with, not to mention she has a habit of limping into their shared apartment, drunk off her head and rambling. It’s the only time Nozomi ever sees Nico in a vulnerable moment, during the times when Nico returns home with a bottle clasped between her hands and tears streaming down her face as she spills out emotion in the form of rambled words and repetition, usually along the lines of _“I can’t, I’m a fuck-up, I can’t, I can’t”_. They never talk about it the next morning, and Nozomi wonders if Nico knows what she says when she’s drunk.

The days have almost faded into one another. Nothing exciting is happening in either of their lives; they come to work, they do their shifts, eat some crappy takeaway in front of the television, Nico goes out to get drunk every other night (and if she doesn’t she sleeps) and Nozomi smokes. They both have their ways of coping with their lives, the sheer nothingness of it, the emptiness of the day-in, day-out routine they’re so used to. The opening of Hana’s opposite them was certainly an event, since there are now two new arrivals who seem quite sociable – at least, Eli does, since Nico said that the other girl was pretty shy – but overall, nothing significant seems to be happening, and nothing significant seems like it ever will. Mundane living is just her norm now, and she really doesn’t see any kind of future ahead.

The two partners work their shift, Nico being her usual irritating self and Nozomi rolling her eyes so much that she loses count. Finally, as the day draws to a close, the two clear up the store as usual, interrupted only by the _ding_ of the bell to signal the door opening.

“We’re closed,” Nozomi says monotonously, not even turning to face the customer.

“I apologise for the intrusion.”

Nozomi freezes at the familiar voice and turns to find a familiar blonde standing in the entrance of the parlour. She looks cold, wearing the same flowery dress and thin tights again. Nozomi can’t help but admire the way the outfit fits the girl, accentuating all her curves and making her look elegant as she walks.

“Good evening,” Eli smiles. She clasps a bouquet of flowers in her hands, a variation of red and blue flowers – Nozomi’s never been a big fan of flowers, so she’s hardly likely to know the names – and she flashes Nozomi a gentle smile, not even intimidated by the tattoo artist’s death glare and rough appearance. “I brought some flowers. I thought of you and Nico when I found these – both of your eye colours are very unique and interesting, and the two of you appeared to be working very hard when I tried to come by earlier, so I decided to bring you them now… if you would accept them.” She holds out the bouquet and Nozomi stands in shock for a moment, trying not to let it show on her face.

She doesn’t understand Eli Ayase. She knows you can’t possibly understand a person within a few days of meeting them, but she can’t even _begin_ to understand the blonde florist. What intentions does she have? What is she trying to achieve by giving flowers to the tattoo artists across the road? Most of the people in Otonokizaka know that kindness doesn’t help you whatsoever in this town, and yet this newcomer seems to be trying to sprinkle positivity over the town like some sort of fairy. Nozomi doesn’t know whether to be irritated or grateful – she takes the bouquet out of Eli’s hands, watching the girl’s smile widen as her gesture is accepted.

Upon closer inspection, Nozomi sees that the blue flowers are variations of blue to turquoise to green – she knows her eyes are a turquoise sort of colour, a mix of blue and green, but she never realised how beautiful the colour is until she saw this. Her eyes flicker over the bouquet, taking in every detail on the flowers as Eli watches her with an almost analytical gaze whilst maintaining the same, sweet smile.

“I…” Nozomi feels vulnerable. She doesn’t like being given things, since she then has to either thank someone or find a way to give them something in return; she has nothing to give this flower girl, unless she wants a tattoo. “I have nothing to give in return, so there’s not much point…”

 _Shit. I ended up sounding too harsh_. Realising it’s too late to fix her mistake, Nozomi stifles a sigh and just waits to see the other girl’s reaction.

“It’s fine.” Eli smiles. “I don’t expect anything in return. I like making people happy, and giving them gifts, and picking out the flowers to match your eyes was quite an adventure.”

“How did you know what Nico’s eyes looked like?” Nozomi asks. She wonders if Eli and Nico have met yet.

“I asked Maki. The two of them have become acquainted already, it would seem.”

“Mm.” Nozomi puts the bouquet in an empty vase, which used to have flowers in months ago until _someone_ (Nico) forgot to water it for days and let it die. She decides at that point to take responsibility for watering the flowers – if Eli sees them die, who knows what she’ll think? It takes a moment for Nozomi to catch herself; why is she considering another person’s feelings? This isn’t like her at all.

“I was thinking about something today,” Eli begins, and Nozomi listens curiously. “I was wondering if we should all go out together sometime. We are practically neighbours now, and nobody else on this street appears to be very friendly. I have yet to learn my way around Otonokizaka, and it would be quite pitiful if I preached about brightening up a town which I had never seen the entirety of. If it is not too much trouble…” Eli looks nervous for a moment, an expression Nozomi has never seen on her. She hesitates before speaking again. “If it is not too much trouble, I would be very grateful if Nico and yourself would be our tour guides for this town.”

Tour guides…? Nozomi furrows her brows at the suggestion, and with that slightest action, Eli’s hands fly up in front of her face and she begins to wave frantically.

“It is fine if you don’t want to,” she says, her voice suddenly sounding urgent, taking Nozomi aback. “It is a very selfish request of mine, so…”

“Why the fuck not?”

Eli pauses and widens her eyes. “P…Pardon?”

Nozomi shrugs. “I have nothin’ better to do. I doubt Nico does either, except getting drunk off her non-existent tits. Might as well show the two of you around.”

“Ah.” Eli looks genuinely surprised, and then smiles sweetly. “Thank you, Nozomi. That is a very kind gesture. Then… tomorrow night, perhaps? I’ll have to return to the apartment and inform Maki of our plans, and you can do the same for Nico, yes?”

“Sure.” Nozomi knows Nico will be down for it. Any excuse to go out and get drunk with other people is a good one. “But don’t blame me if Nico ends the night drunk and throwing up.”

Eli giggles. “I’ll try and prevent that from happening.” She flashes another almost sickeningly sweet smile at Nozomi. “I shall pick the two of you up tomorrow at around eight o’clock in the evening. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Nozomi shrugs indifferently and Eli nods.

“Then it’s settled. Eight o’clock.”

“Yeah…” Nozomi looks a little baffled as Eli turns and begins to walk out the shop, her grip on the bouquet tightening as she realises what just happened. She was swayed by the kindness of the blonde florist and agreed to… what was it? Give her a tour around Otonokizaka? With _Nico_ as a tour guide aside her? _There’s no way this is going to end well._

Sighing, she sweeps her bangs back (they really are getting abnormally long, but she prefers it this way) and begins to head upstairs to break the news to Nico. No doubt her colleague would be thrilled at the opportunity to go out and get drunk with other people.

There are so many possibilities for how the night will go, there’s no way of telling how it will in the end. So, deciding to not try and predict it and instead take caution to the wind, Nozomi begins to plan her outfit and makeup for the night that evening, wondering how on earth she ever ended up in this situation to begin with.

~~~

“I-Is this one okay?”

Maki stands in front of a mirror, Eli behind her, swirling around and checking the dress from each angle. It’s black, with an opaque dress and then lacy sleeves and some lace around the mid-section and towards the higher part of the torso – through the lace, you could see the dress was quite low-cut, but the lace more or less covers it. The dress accentuates her curves nicely, but her eyes flicker from detail to detail as she picks out everything wrong with the outfit as the blonde girl stands behind her and shook her head in disbelief.

“It’s absolutely beautiful, Maki. What is the issue with it?” she asks delicately, approaching the question with caution.

“I-It shows too much… too much, here…” She points at the midsection and neckline, where skin is visible beneath the fabric. “I don’t want people to look at me like that.”

“There will be girls wearing far less in some of the clubs around here, no doubt,” Eli says, a little brazenly. “I am sure you will not be noticed in that way. If you really are uncomfortable with the dress…” Eli sighs a little. “The others look the same, Maki, more or less. I think this one is the nicest, and it is quite modest as well.”

Maki turns from side to side in the mirror, feeling a slight spike of fear as she sees how tight the dress is, how it shows her figure in a way that could be seen as provocative, seductive… the exact opposite of what she wants to be. At this point, she would much rather be in her sweatpants and hoodie, drinking hot chocolate and watching TV. But Eli seems excited for the night, and besides, Nozomi and Nico from the tattoo parlour offered to be tour guides for the night. Though Maki knows that they’ll really just end up clubbing, she has to admit she is a little curious to see some of the local scenery.

To her, Otonokizaka is the perfect place to hide. When she lived with him, they were in a modern mansion in the wealthy district of a large city, surrounded by the best quality clothes, technology, education, beautiful buildings, expensive food, five-star hotels and well-paying jobs. Since fleeing her old life, she knows she cannot be found in Otonokizaka. It may be a down-grade, but it brings a feeling of security to Maki, knowing that, of all places, _he_ would not expect her to be in this kind of apartment in this kind of town. After all, she still has money – her family is rich, after all, so what would the reason be to buy such an apartment?

At the thought of her family, she shudders a little. She hasn’t contacted them since she ran away. She wonders if he’s called them at all, trying to get ahold of her. She wonders how her parents will react to their perfect little daughter running away from her hard-working, loyal fiancé. At least, she knows that will be how he makes them perceive it. He has a certain method of manipulating people’s thoughts; he can turn anyone against anyone, no matter how close they are to that person.

She changed her phone number, but she still has theirs, sitting in her contact list, taunting her for not having the courage to tap the screen a few times and call them to tell them she’s okay. But she knows it’s dangerous to keep contact with anyone from her old place, except for, obviously, Eli. Looking up at the blonde woman, she suddenly feels a wave of nostalgia as she remembers back to when she and the florist first met, at a dinner party for her fiancé’s business.

~~~

_It starts as it always does – she picks out a dress, he tells her it’s too revealing, not revealing enough, too short, too long, too red, too black, always the wrong shade, and when he finally finds one he finds somewhat acceptable, she spends an hour on her hair and makeup and he kisses her and tells her she looks beautiful. She always feels conflicted in those moments, when his lips brush sweetly against hers, so contrasting to the rough kisses when he’s in a particularly bad mood, and his voice whispers in her ear words of praise, unlike the torments and insults he hurls at her on other occasions. It’s times like this when she remembers why she fell in love with him, and wonders if he can ever really change._

_Then a limo comes to pick them up from their mansion, and he flings notes at the driver who accepts them greedily and they enter the back of the limo. She sits with one leg crossed neatly over the other, and he rests his chin on his elbow and stares broodily out of the window, occasionally adjusting his tie or suit or messing with his hair a little. She watches him, caught in the moment, seeing his face so calm and tame-looking. He looks stunning. She wonders if he ever looks at her and thinks the same, like how he called her beautiful just earlier._

_They arrive at the dinner party and the two are immediately greeted, men shaking hands with him and their wives kissing her on the cheek and showering her with compliments – “Your hair is looking so shiny and bouncy!” “You’ve lost weight again, Maki! I don’t know how you manage this!” “Oh, that dress is absolutely divine, you must tell me where you got it from.” – and she responds, mustering up as genuine a smile as she can manage without wanting to be sick._

_The boss of the company greets your fiancé, the two shaking hands, and it’s the first time she’s gotten a good glimpse at him – an older man, possibly in his fifties or so, with greying hair and a stern expression. His handshake looks very firm and he nods in acknowledgment at her before speaking to her fiancé in a low voice. Maki engages in small talk with the other women, all dressed up and dolled up in the most expensive brands of clothing and makeup, bracelets jingling on their wrists and necklaces sparkling in the light from the chandelier, showing off their wealth, the treasures their husbands have purchased them._

_“I hear the two of you have gotten engaged,” a familiar woman says, nodding towards the man who is now surrounded by other men in similar suits, all looking professional and holding champagne glasses between their fingers. She doesn’t remember the woman’s name, but she remembers the face, so she clings onto her (metaphorically, of course) and nod._

_“Yes. H-He proposed a few months ago.” She silently curses herself for the stutter in her voice._

_“Congratulations,” the woman says with a dazzling, practiced smile. “I wish the two of you the best – ah, is the ceremony public or private?”_

_They converse like that for a while, the women rallying questions about Maki’s engagement and Maki trying her best to answer quickly whilst occasionally sneaking glances behind her. He has her back turned to her and is now chatting to a tall, sultry-looking woman. Maki’s heart pangs a little; she doesn’t know why she feels this way. It isn’t even jealousy, but something different entirely. It scares her, slightly._

_She walks to the bar after escaping from the circle of women parroting away about trivial topics, and perches herself atop a barstool a few seats away from a woman who looks to her to be more dazzling than any of the other women. Her hair is blonde and pinned up in a classy bun, her complexion smooth and pale, bracelets jingling on her wrists and a beautiful black dress with a petticoat fixed underneath and tights. Maki gazes enviously at her, blonde hair blocking her eyes from her view; she’s certain they’re just as beautiful as the rest of her._

_Suddenly, a man approaches her from behind and rests a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she’s surprised to find that the company’s boss is standing there, now separate from the groups of businessmen dotted around the room. The woman looks up, revealing icy blue eyes which trail over Maki for a moment before flicking towards the boss._

_“Eli, I do hope you have at least made an effort to mingle tonight,” the boss says sternly, and Maki notices how much older he looks up close, wrinkled lines on his forehead and a few greying hairs._

_“I have, Father.”_

_“Then why are you sitting alone at the bar when you could be talking to some more of the influential figures attending this event?”_

_“I needed a drink,” the woman, Eli, says as she taps the side of her glass. “I’ll be right back after I’ve finished, Father.”_

_“Good.” The man pats Eli on the back and turns to engage in conversation with another group of formally dressed men. The faces all seem to blend into each other, and Maki can’t even pick him out in the crowd. The only abnormal people in the room appear to be herself and Eli. As she turns to sneak another glance at the boss’s daughter, she accidentally makes eye contact and jumps a little, startled._

_Eli looks shocked, then giggles. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”_

_“Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” Maki fiddles with her necklace, for lack of things to do to distract herself from the sharp gaze of the blonde girl. “Just not suited for these… these kinds of events.” She wonders if he’d let her say that, if he’d click his tongue with frustration if he was listening and pick at her for it later._

_“Me neither,” Eli says, and winks before turning to the bartender. “Get one of these for this young lady, if you would please.” She holds up her own glass and the bartender nods._

_“O-Oh, you don’t have to do that!” Maki insists, and Eli shakes her head in a nonchalant manner._

_“It’s nothing. You look like you could use a few drinks in a place like this.” Eli looks out over the crowd of men in formal suits and women in black dresses. “So, who are you here with? I doubt you’re an employee. The company seems to be heavily outweighed in terms of gender. Probably nine out of ten employees are male nowadays.”_

_“I’m here with my… my fiancé,” Maki states, and Eli nods._

_“I suppose I shall not bother asking which of them he is, since they all practically look the same,” Eli says with a hint of amusement to her voice. Maki wonders how she can so easily speak out against the powerful businessmen around her, and maintain a carefree attitude even in this situation. Well… carefree isn’t the word. But she is certainly calm and collected, even in a formal setting._

_The bartender delivers the drink to Maki and Eli counts a few coins and places them on the bar. Maki feels a stab of guilt as she watches her retrieve her money, but holds her tongue and takes a tentative sip of the drink. It’s good; fruity, with a sprig of lemon on the side of the glass._

_Eli talks to her a while longer, not the usual small talk the other women gave her about dresses and makeup and hair. In fact, she doesn’t mention anything about clothing at all, and instead chooses to debate on whether their presence is really required at these meetings or if they’re just accessories to be displayed. The conversation, despite being fairly one-sided on Eli’s part, piques Maki’s interest. It’s been so long since she’s heard someone else’s honest opinion and agreed with it so deeply._

_She’s so engrossed in Eli’s speech, she doesn’t notice the presence behind her until a hand clamps down on her shoulder and she jumps, Eli looking up to meet his gaze as Maki spins around on her barstool._

_“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Maki,” he says irritably, looking disapprovingly at the empty glass on the bar. “Please tell me you haven’t gotten yourself drunk or some shit like that.”_

_“N-No, I’m perfectly sober. Are you… are you done?”_

_“Don’t stutter, I hate when you do that. Yeah, we should be ready to leave soon. Just need to speak to the boss again before I leave.” He eyes Eli from head to toe, gaze lingering a little too long on her body. “You’re the boss’s daughter, right? Eli Ayase. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He extends a hand, which Eli takes reluctantly, offering him a suspicious glance._

_“My pleasure,” she responds politely, but Maki can see in her eyes that she’s wary of him._

_“Mr. Ayase is indeed a brilliant man, and I’m sure his daughter will live up to his name,” he flatters, nodding at her with respect before turning to seek out the boss again. Maki looks down at her feet, wriggling in her heels, searching for any kind of comfort from their confinement within her heels and tights._

_“That was your fiancé, I presume?” Eli questions, sitting upright with her hands in her lap, an elegant pose for an elegant lady._

_“Y-Yeah. His name is-”_

_“He was rather rude to you, was he not?” Maki is taken aback by Eli’s interruption, so unlike how she had previously been speaking that it caught her off-guard._

_“H-He’s just looking out for me… I don’t really know how to socialise properly at these events, so…” Her voice trails off, and she begins to fiddle with her skirt._

_“He openly corrected your manner of speaking in a rude and unjust manner. If he is normally like this, I am a little wary of the dynamics of your relationship.” Eli frowns. “I know it is none of my business, but I have seen this happen to many women with powerful husbands. They become blind to the manipulation and disguise it as being ‘looked out for’. They think, since their husbands bring home large amounts of money, that they owe them something. That… that kind of thing is not love.” She clenches her fist, and Maki sees that this is something she’s enthusiastic about._

_“I…” Her voice trails away as he returns, clasping at her arm and yanking her to her feet, yet in a way that isn’t visible to anyone aside from himself, Maki and Eli, who looks as if she’s almost ready to murder him._

_“We’re leaving.” He nods at Eli. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”_

_Eli grits her teeth as if she’s about to lash out, but is silenced by her father’s return with two dolled-up ladies by either side who bat their eyes flirtatiously at him whilst looking down at Eli with some sort of analytical gazes, like they’re evaluating whether or not she’s a threat to their potential ‘in’ with a famous businessman. Their doubts wash away as he introduces her as his daughter, and Maki is led away from the scene as concern settles over her mind at what the blonde-haired woman was trying to say to her._

_That night, she leaves the party with him, and goes to bed with her head clogged and confused, thoughts circling her mind as she wonders just to what extent she agrees with Eli. Even the thought of going against his wishes sparks anxiety in her chest, and yet…_

_…even she still has a burning desire to be free._

~~~

They meet on a sidewalk, illuminated by the street lamps as evening transcends into night. Nico and Nozomi are dressed up as well, a relief, as Maki feared they’d show up in casual clothes and humiliate the other two girls. Their tour guides greet them, Nozomi and Maki properly introducing themselves to one another, as is the same with Eli and Nico. Once the four are introduced, they begin their adventure into the night.

The tour starts as expected – Nozomi and Nico guide them around the town for a while, pointing out anywhere of remote interest. There’s an old abandoned building which used to be a hideout for prostitutes, and an alleyway which is notorious for being a drug-selling area for teenagers. Once they reach the more ‘vibrant’ side of town, however, all that is abandoned.

First thing they hear is a siren, which causes Maki to flinch slightly. “Ah, the nightly hospital trip,” Nico says with a smirk, and Nozomi lights a cigarette nonchalantly. “Happens pretty much every night. Probably just the drunkards fightin’.”

“Barbaric,” Eli mutters under her breath, but retains her composure as they walk down the street, eyeing bright buildings and strip clubs and bars. They end up going into one bar for a drink, but Nico ends up whining about how empty the place is and they leave. This happens a few times before they enter a bar and find a rather… interesting event taking place.

“This- is- what- perverts- like- you- _deserve_!” A girl is yelling at a middle-aged man as she kicks him around on the ground, an audience watching wide-eyed and some cheering her on. Nozomi and Nico join right in on the action, Nico letting out a huge whistle and Nozomi clapping her hands together humorously.

“What in the name of-” Eli’s sentence trails off and she shakes her head as Maki stands, merely dumbfounded by the sight. The girl’s face is contorted with rage, and a fragile-looking girl sits atop a barstool looking on in pure surprise.

A low whistle sounds from behind the bar, and the bartender herself comes out and throws her arm around the orange-haired girl who defeated the man. “Alright, alright. Congratulations to my good friend Rin here.” Then, with a wink, she adds, “Ladies, she’s a real beast in the sheets, so don’t be afraid to hit her up.” With a few added whistles from the crowd, including Nozomi, the audience disbands and returns to its usual business, the unconscious man being dragged out by a member of staff.

“Does this usually happen?” Eli asks, looking shocked by the whole scenario.

“Fightin’ is pretty common, but this was an interestin’ one,” Nozomi explains. “What, ya never seen a fight before? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Eli flushes slightly. “I’ve… I haven’t ever lived in such a…”

“Rough neighbourhood?” Eli nods. “Well, ya better get used to these things. It’s fine as long as ya don’t get involved. That guy ain’t gonna suffer any lifelong damage from that, except for the huge blow to his ego.” Nozomi gestures to where the winning girl now sits chatting to the girl at the bar. “And look, she’s gonna get laid now. It all works out beautifully, right?”

Nico lets out a chuckle as Nozomi smirks, neither of them noticing or caring about the uncomfortable shift which both Eli and Maki do to express their awkwardness.

“This bar ain’t gonna be that exciting from now on,” Nozomi states.

“Guess we missed out on all the fun,” Nico agrees. “Shall we take ‘em somewhere more… lively?”

“W-Where is that?” Maki asks, almost afraid to ask.

“You ever been to a strip club before?”

The worst thing is, she has. She remembers going with him, some of his friends and their girlfriends, and both her and the other girls having to watch their boyfriends, fiancés and husbands ogle other girls whilst simultaneously trying to justify their actions by assuring their girls that they were still devoted to them. It was one of the worst nights of her life, and Nico merely mentioning it brings back painful memories. She sees Eli watching her carefully from the corner of her vision, and thinks about what to do.

An idea strikes her. Maybe, if she goes there with Nozomi, Nico and Eli, her previous memories of strip clubs will be replaced with nicer ones; she knows it’s a silly thought, but in her current state of mind, it seems to be an okay idea. With slight hesitation, she nods and says, “Are… are we going to one of those?”

“If ya want.”

Maki turns to Eli. “Eli?”

Eli looks doubtful, but responds with, “If you’re okay with it, Maki.” Nico looks bored with the exchange and begins to march out of the bar, followed by Nozomi. Eli flashes Maki a quick look before they, too, exit the bar.

~~~

Before long, they find themselves blinded by lights and surrounded by women dressed in lacy lingerie offering lap dances for certain prices. She’s always found the concept of strip clubs slightly disturbing, but having Eli next to her is a little more comforting than being there alone or with _him_ again. In the centre of the stage stands a pole, on which a stripper dances, entangling her legs around it and spinning, managing to hold herself up with whatever strength she needs to do that. Maki doesn’t know much about the physics of pole-dancing, but she has respect for any woman who can do those ungodly moves.

Nico settles herself down in a chair like it’s her second home, and Nozomi follows a little less comfortably, but still with ease. Maki and Eli sit together, eyes darting around the room, wondering just where to look since every time they shift their gaze another half-naked woman comes into sight. A small blush has settled itself onto Eli’s face, but Maki knows better than to question it outwardly here.

The night fades into a blur of pole-dancing, lingerie and risqué glances to the audience; the music in the background infects her mind and leaves a pounding noise even when the song ends and moves onto another. The woman dancing performs a particular manoeuvre which has the audience whooping and tossing wads of cash at her like they’re worth nothing. Maki wonders how the woman feels, having these notes thrown at her, encouraging her to display more of herself, hold herself up on the pole and dance for this audience of humans turned wild animals, dilated pupils and focused gazes. She decides not to dwell upon it for too long, and instead excuses herself to get a drink.

She lingers around the bar for longer than usual, pretending she’s indecisive on what to drink. Eventually the song ends and she turns her head to see the stripper strutting back to the curtain she emerged from at the beginning. Her gaze moving a little further down to off-stage, she sees that Nozomi and Eli are missing from their table, and Nico sits alone, kicking back on a chair with a vacant expression on her face. Quickly, Maki orders two drinks at random from the menu and carries them back to their table, seeing Nico’s eyebrows raise in surprise as she places both the drinks on the surface.

“Both of these for you?” she chuckles, and Maki shakes her head.

“Y-You can pick one.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” Nico says, the endearing term causing Maki to flinch, unnoticed by the black-haired girl as she takes the drink on her left and tosses her head back to down it all in one.

“Damn. Weak liquor. This club needs to step up its game.”

Maki takes delicate sips of her own drink, hating the way the alcohol burns at her throat. Nico watches her, attention diverted from the stripper now performing her own routine on the stage. Overly aware of the burning gaze on her, Maki ducks her head a little so she stares down at her own legs, clad in almost-opaque tights to hide the bruises and scars littered over them.

“You don’t need to look so afraid, you know,” Nico states suddenly, never taking her eyes off the red-haired girl. “You always have the same doe-eyed look on your face. Nozomi noticed it, too.”

“U-Uh…” She shuts down, not knowing what else to say, and chooses instead to listen to Nico as she continues.

“I don’t wanna go prying into your past or some shit like that. I’m not a snoop, I just don’t want to spend the evening with some prissy uptight rich girl and her socially awkward companion who flinches every time I step close to her. That sounds pretty rude, but…” Nico catches herself, and sighs. “I guess Nozomi and I have been a little sudden with all of… this.” She gestures around herself. “But this is Otonokizaka. You made the choice to move here. You-”

“T-There was no _choice_ ,” Maki speaks up, saving herself from falling further down into social anxiety by forcing herself to speak. “I had to move here. It was the… the only option.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “I know I said I wouldn’t pry, but this isn’t a good place to leave the story off.”

The music is loud, and it gives Maki a headache. She feels overly hot in the heat of the club, and the lights make her vision blur slightly each time she tries to look elsewhere. Nico is practically shouting to make herself heard over the music, and the stripper hooks her leg around the pole and shoots her gaze directly at Maki as soon as she looks up, catching the redhead off-guard and causing her to look away sharply. The sudden jerk of her head causes a throb of pain to erupt through her skull, and the lights blur into one strange, fuzzy shape in her vision, and she can feel her body grow fainter as she grips onto the armchair for support. She sees a blurry shape moving quickly towards her, then a hand wrapping around her slowly numbing arm. She feels herself being pulled to her feet, then she loses feeling in her body as she drifts closer into unconsciousness. In her dreary state, she can barely register the cold air hitting her as she is escorted out of the club, and the sound of a car door opening, and the slow fading away of the music as she collapses onto somebody’s shoulder, willing herself just to _pass out_ _already_.

And she does.


	6. are you high enough without the mary-jane like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kotori attempts to get through to Umi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i! am! so! sorry! i'm so bad at updating! im literally the worst and i hate when fanfic authors take forever to update and yet here i am a prime example of why u should practice what u preach.
> 
> anywayyy, here's a long overdue chapter. hopefully next chapter will be quicker since i actually know whats going down now. so get strapped in and prepared for more emotional torture :^) have fun! (this is also a kinda short chapter since i wanted to move things along a bit more)

The evenings are too quiet. It usually consists of an early dinner, Honoka being put to bed by Umi, the latter finishing off some work at a desk and ending up going to bed far too late than what is healthy. Kotori sticks around when Umi stays up, in a desperate attempt to get her to bed at a reasonable time; it often fails, as she ends up becoming too sleepy and retiring to bed before the other girl has even come close to finishing her work.

It scares her, how robotic Umi has become. From the way she doesn’t seem to care about anything other than Honoka’s health and her work – which ends up leading back to Honoka’s health as well, since her wages go to medical bills – to the way she has a clear recklessness when it comes to her own well-being, Kotori is painfully aware that Umi is not living a healthy lifestyle. She barely even has time to talk to her childhood friend, and instead spends more time talking to Honoka or taking her outside, revisiting old places they used to spend time at when they were kids. It’s strange, painting over old, happy memories with the new, foreign ones, but it gives her a feeling of nostalgia as she breathes in the Otonokizaka air. It really has been too long.

She knows that, soon, she will have to return to her studies and throw herself into schoolwork again. But now that she’s seen the damage back home, she’s not sure if she can leave without being assured that Umi would be alright. It wasn’t even just a question of Honoka anymore – she knows Honoka needs assistance, but in that need, Umi’s has been neglected. She prays that she will be able to catch Umi when she isn’t busy sometime, but somehow she knows that will be impossible.

It’s around seven o’clock when Umi returns that day. Kotori lazes on the sofa, watching the television – there’s an idol group consisting of three members who have been sweeping the nation for a few years now. A-Rise. She remembers that they were school idols at the school UTX, not far from Otonokizaka. She wonders if she’s ever passed them in the street – then again, she’d probably recognise them if she did. Besides, they were supposedly on a world tour now, heading back home tomorrow. There was some news article about it which said they’d be holding a concert at UTX, much to the delight of the current students and people living in the surrounding areas.

“A-Rise,” Umi says as she enters the living room, staring at the TV screen. Kotori nods and beams.

“They’re really successful these days, you know.”

“Yeah. I met Tsubasa, the lead singer, in third year. She’s pretty intimidating, but… cool. I guess.”

“You met her?”

Umi nods, and sits down next to Kotori, who shuffles her legs to make room for her, before lifting them up and placing them on Umi’s lap, the position they used to sit in on movie nights. Umi’s eyes widen for a moment, then she relaxes, ever so slightly. Kotori feels a sense of accomplishment for making her loosen up a little, and makes a mental note to try and do it more often.

“How has Otonokizaka been?” Umi asks, taking Kotori by surprise. “I mean, now that you’ve been here a while. I know it’s not the same place it was before, but…”

“It may be slightly different now, but the memories still remain,” Kotori responds, Umi falling silent to listen. “I still think the three of us should leave and live together, but I don’t know if we can do that with Honoka’s condition and your work. I just feel… I don’t know. It feels like you’re overworking yourself, and it’s kind of scary.”

Umi nods slowly.

“It’s been really difficult to watch the two people you loved and cherished the most growing up turn into… empty shells. That sounds harsh, but it’s true. It feels like all the energy has been drained from this house, that there’s no light in either of your eyes anymore.” She’s not used to being honest. Her eyes drop, and she notices from what she can see that Umi turns her head slightly away, as if trying to escape from Kotori’s feelings. “I can see glimpses of the old Umi and the old Honoka behind your eyes, but you’re not _there_. You’re somewhere far away. The stress of keeping everything holding up is going to cause you to crumble, Umi. I hope you know that.”

She looks up to find a strange expression on Umi’s face – _is it guilt_? She feels thankful for the A-Rise concert playing on the TV, for if it wasn’t for that, the room would be entirely silent. She sees a movement out of the corner of her eye, a flash of ginger, and Honoka wheels into the room with a drained expression on her face. She looks a little disoriented, and it takes a few moments before Kotori realises she’s probably taken her nightly medication. She remembers taking a look at the pack of pills and reading the list of side-effects – drowsiness, sweating, vision problems…

“I need to help Honoka to bed,” Umi says, evidently grateful for the excuse to back out of the conversation. She stands quickly, swaying for just a moment when she is upright before shaking it off and rushing towards Honoka. The ginger-haired girl doesn’t speak, looking as if she’s about to fall asleep any second. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her skin looks pale – the same goes for Umi. Kotori feels a chill over her body at the scene, the reality of everything slowly kicking in.

They’ve become like machines. Honoka’s lost her liveliness, her optimism, and Umi’s lost her collectiveness and organisation. Kotori can see her cracking under the pressure, and yet any warning she makes goes ignored. Tension invades the entire room, before Umi and Honoka head into Honoka’s room, with a bed set up with all the medical equipment she needs. She’s seen the medical bills; she knows how much it all costs, and it’s far more than Umi makes in a year.

She turns back to the TV. It’s switched from a concert to an interview, the three girls of A-Rise sitting on chairs with a famous talk show host asking them questions. It’s difficult for her to fathom Umi meeting Tsubasa – they seem like similar people, but not in a good way. Both natural leaders, but leading in different ways. At least, Umi used to be a good leader.

_“You’ll be returning to your hometown tomorrow, won’t you?”_ the interviewer asks, the audience ‘aww’ing at the prospect of A-Rise leaving. _“We’ll miss you very much here. Your performances have been incredible.”_

_“Thank you. We’ve loved being here,”_ the darker-haired girl, Toudou Erena, responds.

_“It’s been a truly amazing experience, and to see our audiences and the sheer amount of people our music has influenced… it’s surreal,”_ continues the other girl, Anju. Tsubasa nods, followed by the charming smile she’s known for. It’s common knowledge that every female fan of A-Rise has had questionable thoughts about Tsubasa at some point; she’s boyish, charismatic and has sharp, defined features that you can make out even through cameras. Kotori wonders how the girl must look in real life – the amount of stage presence A-Rise has is overwhelming, which is why they’ve climbed the ladder of fame so rapidly, and it would indeed be weird to see them in real life as normal people.

She wonders if she should invite Umi to go and see the A-Rise concert when they return from their tour. It had been said that they’d be performing at UTX when they came back; perhaps that would be a good way to give Umi some time to relax. She makes a mental note to check online for tickets the next day.

She watches until the channel switches over to some other music group, and then turns off the TV, preparing a simple microwave dinner and eating whilst reading the newspaper. She seems to be so at home, yet the house could not feel any less familiar to her. She knows her way around, but she’ll never be able to get over the atmosphere, seeing Honoka and Umi as they are now and not being able to do anything about it.

The telephone rings, causing her to jump – it hasn’t rung since she had arrived, and she just assumed all calls went to Umi’s mobile. Umi doesn’t show up to take the call, so Kotori picks up the phone and responds with, “Hello?”

“Who is this?”

“K-Kotori. I can go get Umi for you if you like-”

“Kotori!” She immediately recognises the voice as Honoka’s mother. It’s strange; she hasn’t heard her voice in so long, yet just by hearing her name she recognises it straight away. “What have I missed? You’re back in town?”

“I am!” Kotori replies cheerfully, glad to speak to someone who at least sounds optimistic. “Not permanently, since I still have studies to do and exams and such, but I’ll be here for a while. I’m glad Umi let me stay here, because I really didn’t plan out where I could actually go if she didn’t.” She laughs lightly, hearing Honoka’s mother laugh on the other end. “How have you been, Ms Kousaka?”

“I’ve been doing well, thank you,” is the response, but it sounds quite wearied and drained, like it’s not the full truth, just one of those generic responses when one is asked how they are. “It’s been quite hectic lately, but we’re doing okay. Yukiho is studying as well, but she’s not living too far away. Just a few train rides. She visits every weekend.”

“Where’s she studying?” Kotori asks, out of genuine interest, and Ms Kousaka proceeds to tell her all about how Yukiho’s doing. Seems like she and Arisa are dorm-mates on the campus of their university; it makes her smile to know that the two girls are still friends after all these years. She remembers when they were just in junior high school – _woah._ Time really does fly.

After a while, the conversation shifts to how Honoka is doing. Kotori states that she’s gone to bed and appeared to be tired, to which Ms Kousaka explained that her medication made her extremely sleepy at times.

“It still seems weird that we’re discussing this about _Honoka_ ,” Kotori admits, lowering her voice to avoid being heard from the other room. “She was the liveliest person I knew, and yet that all seems to be gone. It’s not just that she’s in a wheelchair, it’s… her entire attitude. It’s all changed.”

“That tends to happen after things like this,” Ms Kousaka says, choosing her words carefully. “People tend to forget that aside from the obvious physical effects after such accidents, there are also the psychological effects. Nightmares, PTSD, depression, self-hatred and blaming… there’s so much that goes on in the mind after these kinds of horrific accidents which are never really spoken about.”

“It’s awful,” Kotori agrees. “Especially when something like that happens to such an amazing person. To watch your own childhood friend lose all their optimism and hope is…” She feels a stinging at her eye, and mentally curses herself for starting to say that. She hears a sympathetic mumble from the other end of the line.

“I’m coming to visit Honoka this weekend, so please let her know,” she says, and they exchange goodbyes before hanging up. Kotori is left in the kitchen alone, and she leans against the counter, tilting her head up and allowing a tear to spill over her eyelash and roll down her face. Her breathing is laboured as she tries to stop herself from crying, willing herself not to let this uncontrollable situation get to her, but knowing it will be useless in the end.

She’s become rather good at holding herself together since she left Otonokizaka. From the day she left onwards, she had to be independent, from getting onto her flight alone to travelling alone and navigating her way around campus alone. Of course, she made friends who helped her, but she had nobody to rely on for about a day and a half. It was one of the worst times in her life, even when she was supposed to be excited; she’d left her friends, and she missed them dreadfully the entire time. She kept in touch for a while, then immersed herself in her studies and ended up neglecting them. She wasn’t around when the accident happened. She wasn’t there for Honoka.

_Did I apologise?_ She freezes and tenses up where she stands. There are so many unspoken words between herself and Honoka, and even more between her and Umi. Yet she’d just walked into their house and acted like she lived there, making herself at home without even bothering to apologise for the lack of contact.

She prepares tea as she mulls over her thoughts, wondering why she came back here. What was she looking to achieve? Reconcile with Honoka and Umi and go back to normal, only to inevitably leave to pursue her studies again? Would she have kept contact with them if the visit had been normal? Or would she have just neglected them again, hurting them a second time? Kotori clasps onto the mug, holding it close to her lips but not drinking from it.

She hears a shuffle from the other room, and then Umi’s voice growing louder by the second. She sounds as if she’s calling for Honoka. Immediately, Kotori slams the mug onto the counter and races towards Honoka’s room. Upon opening the door, she finds a worried Umi leaning over Honoka, who is moving slightly with a pained expression on her face. Only when Kotori gets closer does she realise the girl is struggling to breathe, wheezing, eyes widening by the second as her air supply becomes tighter.

“Call an ambulance!” Umi yells towards Kotori, who nods and runs to retrieve her phone and dial the emergency line. As Kotori speaks hurriedly into the phone, Umi tries desperately to calm down Honoka.

_I never knew it was this bad_.

That’s the last thing Kotori thinks before everything descends into chaos.


	7. do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three girls celebrate their success.

Music blasts through the portable speaker in the back of the vehicle, the sounds of champagne glasses clinking together ringing throughout. Yuuki Anju, Toudou Erena and Kira Tsubasa sit together in the back, dressed casually to recover from the tight, fitted costumes they’ve been wearing for the past few days at various concerts and gatherings. It feels nice to be able to breathe in their clothes, which consist of baggy hoodies (Tsubasa wears blue, Anju wears red and Erena wears grey) and leggings. They take sips of champagne, which feels silly, considering they’re supposed to be relaxing; drinking from cans would seem more suitable in this setting, but they had to make do with what the tour bus had. Erena lights a cigarette, a bad habit she’s never been able to break, and moves closer to an open window to smoke. Anju sneaks out her digital camera from her bag and begins to take photographs of Erena leaning out the window, long hair still styled from the previous night blowing in the wind. Tsubasa watches them both with a smile as she finishes off the champagne, slamming the bottle back down onto a table.

It’s about another hour to their destination, their hometown. The town eagerly awaits their arrival; there would be one performance at UTX before they would be able to take a break – of course, the break would only be temporary. There’s always more work to be done, after all, but the company had decided to let them breathe a little after their hard work at the concerts over the past few weeks. It had been a draining experience, with concerts and interviews and signings passing in the blink of an eye, loud audiences and sore throats from singing, aching limbs from the demanding dances.

She remembers when they first started, back in high school, when they became a three-member school idol group. Back then they became popular quickly due to the school they came from, and were invited to participate in various different competitions for school idols. They performed a lot locally and occasionally in other areas, and upon graduation they received a lot of requests for them to be signed as official idols. After conferring with one another, they decided to go for it, and the amount of popularity they gained was overwhelming. Being referred to as the nation’s ‘favourite idol group’ made them all realise how far they had come, from performances in the school hall in front of the thousand students who attended to performances in other countries in front of hundreds of thousands of raging fans.

It wasn’t all easy. Being an idol is hard work, and there were always the times when she’d practically pass out from exhaustion at the end of every day, where she’d become ill from lack of self-care when she worked too hard. They were constantly overworked, especially in the early ages. From having to diet to lose weight to learning intense choreography in weeks, there wasn’t a waking moment where her life as an idol was not on her mind. It took up so much time, she found herself rarely having time for hobbies and spending time with her family and friends; fortunately, her two closest friends are her fellow idols, and they spend the majority of their time together, both in and out of the studio.

Now, as they sit in their tour bus, the tour having finished, final performances given and goodbyes spoken, Tsubasa realises that she doesn’t mind it. The long hours, the paparazzi snapping pictures of her as she walks across the street, the screaming fans, being escorted everywhere by bodyguards – they’re all part of being an idol, and being an idol is her life. She doesn’t know where she’d be now if it wasn’t for A-Rise – granted, her life would most likely be easy, since her family was rich even before she became an idol, but where would she be? What kind of job would she have pursued? Perhaps something to do with medicine, since she always excelled in Science, but she’ll never really know. It makes her curious, to think what she’d be like if it hadn’t been for A-Rise, but every potential image of herself lacks the confidence she has now.

“You look like you’re in deep thought,” Anju says, directed towards Tsubasa, who jumps at being addressed.

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “Just thinking about how far we’ve come.”

“Don’t go getting soppy on us,” Anju smiles, and Tsubasa notices she still hasn’t removed her makeup from last night. The smudge of the mascara and eyeliner gives her eyes a smoky look, and she resists the urge to call her a panda. Though, that’d be better than what she was originally thinking – _she’s really pretty, even when she isn’t trying_.

“I won’t,” she grins, and looks at Erena, who’s still breathing smoke out the window. “You done with that cig yet, Erena?”

No response. Anju giggles. “She’s clearly in deep thought, too. That’s my Erena for you.”

_My Erena_. Tsubasa tries not to let her smile falter. It’s common knowledge among the staff and the group that Erena and Anju are dating, and although it’s not known to the public, there are many theories about it. They’re a good match; Anju’s sweetness softens Erena’s rough edges, and Erena’s determination motivates the more passive Anju. They’re really, in her opinion, an almost perfect match.

It’s stupid, really, how she feels jealous over Erena for the way she can make Anju blush, tuck hair behind her ear and smile down at the ground. The way she can intertwine their fingers and kiss her gently on the cheek and whisper in her ear when they’re alone together. They can’t make anything public, which at least relieves Tsubasa of having to see it all the time – but when they’re in private, sometimes it seems like they’ve forgotten anyone else is in the room apart from each other.

Yes, jealousy is ugly. She’s always believed that, and yet she can’t help the tugging on her heart when she sees them holding hands, or kissing, or even just talking to one another in their low whispers when they don’t want to let anyone else into their ‘bubble’. It makes her feel drifted from them, like if she left, they’d be able to handle themselves. If she died, they wouldn’t care, as long as they had each other. It’s an irrational thought, but it still plagues her.

Erena tosses the cigarette out of the window when she’s done, and spins herself back around to sit properly on her seat. She smirks. “Don’t think I didn’t hear ya talkin’ about me.”

Anju winks. “It’s just because we love you.”

Tsubasa’s throat goes dry.

“God, an hour left to go. Doesn’t seem like we’re that close to UTX,” Erena says, looking down at her wristwatch. “That’s where everythin’ started. Kinda wild, isn’t it?” A nostalgic smile plays on her lips as she looks out the window.

“I’m excited to go back,” Anju agrees. “It’ll be nice to see the people who supported us first again, as well as our families. It’s been too long since we’ve been able to be home and relax.”

The bus pulls into the motorway, and Erena looks away from the window, the sight clearly too boring for her. She takes out her phone and starts scrolling through something. Anju hops up onto her seat, Erena making space so she can climb onto her lap and sit there, their legs tangled together, Anju’s head resting against Erena’s chest as she closes her eyes gently.

Ignoring the tightness in her chest, Tsubasa grabs Anju’s camera and snaps a few photos, seeing Erena meet her gaze and smile when she notices.

“Looks like we’re doin’ couple photography now, Anju,” she chuckles, reaching her hand down to tickle Anju’s sides, causing the smaller girl to erupt in giggles and squirm away from her. Tsubasa plasters a smile onto her face and nods.

“It’s hard not to take photos when you’re both such a photogenic couple,” she says, pressing down on the capture button at an attempt for a candid picture of them. She ends up with a blurry picture of Anju laughing and Erena tickling her even more. It’s times like this where she wonders if she’s really meant to be in the group, despite the fact that she’s the leader – she always seems to be left on the sidelines to watch these moments go down.

A song comes on that Anju and Erena particularly like, so they turn up the volume and fall into comfortable silence as they listen. Tsubasa taps her foot against the ground, gazing out the window at the cars passing by. The tour vehicle was discreet, so it wouldn’t be recognisable when they were driving across busy roads – the windows were darkened so that you couldn’t see in from the outside, and everything was more or less private. There were curtains which could be drawn across the windows for times when they just needed to nap on the road, and blankets and pillows for the same purpose. It’s a great vehicle for travelling like this, but Tsubasa craves the comfort of her own home more than anything else, and a well-deserved break for the three of them.

For a moment, everything seems peaceful as Tsubasa leans back and rests her back against the window, looking on at her two friends, Erena humming along to the song and Anju leaning back on her chest, eyes closed peacefully as she swayed gently to the rhythm. Tsubasa has a distinct memory of the two slow-dancing to the same song one night on an apartment rooftop a couple of years ago, the same night they had told her they were together. She tries to conjure up the memory of how she felt, but she can’t remember feeling anything other than envy. Envy and disgust at herself, at how she let Erena take away the girl she’d had feelings for since their first year of high school. She remembers feeling worthless, and trying to get over the stab of pain in her heart from watching them being together – even now, although numbed, the pain has never really gone away.

It’s not all too bad. She still spends a lot of time with Anju, sometimes even without Erena around. It may be harmful for her to spend time with her and get closer to her whilst harbouring the feelings she does, but she likes to believe she’s good at handling herself now. Whenever she spends time with Anju, she just enjoys the feeling of being with her rather than dwelling on the fact that it’ll never be in the way she wants it to be. As saddening as it is, it’s bearable – the stress and hustle of their career is a good enough distraction from personal feelings. Instead of letting her emotions overwhelm her, she instead throws herself into her work, meaning she accomplishes more when she’s working through her emotions.

Sometimes she doesn’t know whether to slap Erena or thank her.

It’s not like she doesn’t care for Erena, either. Although they became friends later on than her and Anju, she still bonded with her, and the two were more similar than they first believed. Their passions for music was what led to the founding of A-Rise, whereas Anju was more passive and only went along with it because of her friends’ interest. They’ve spent many an afternoon sitting together in one of their rooms with sheet music and their instruments and recording equipment, creating the thing they love together.

The dynamic between the trio really is bizarre, when she thinks about it. Sometimes she questions whether her jealousy is for Erena in particular, for how she can have Anju to herself, or whether it’s for what the two have together. Ever since the early stages of their relationship, they’ve never changed, only become closer and grown together. To anyone looking at them when they act like a couple, they look as though they’ve only been dating a few months, in comparison to the actual years they’ve been together.

For a moment, it feels right. That’s all she feels. Her unease goes away for just a mere moment as she takes in what’s been happening – they’re returning from their biggest tour, their careers are in full swing, their pockets are full of cash with far more waiting in the bank, and their names are known worldwide. It seems surreal still – Tsubasa doesn’t know if this is their ‘peak’, but if it isn’t, she’s afraid of what the peak will be. Tours in other countries? Other continents? She imagines the three of them on a plane to the other side of the world, performing for foreign audiences. The thought makes her heart jump just a little; despite the demanding work she has to do, she really is passionate. She knows that performing in front of audiences is a more exciting job than she ever would have had if she hadn’t had the opportunity to join the music industry.

For a moment, she forgets. Anju leans back into Erena and giggles, and she misses the gesture. Strange; she’s always so perceptive of everything they do. Her mind goes a little hazy, lost in the post-tour feeling, the buzz through her veins remembering cheering fans and coloured glow sticks. The audience looked alive, like a large, elegant, multi-coloured creature stretching across the concert halls they performed in. She forgets everything else, closing her eyes and focusing on the feeling she had, the adrenaline, the explosions of intense energy as she sang and danced for the crowd. What did she think while she was on stage? She can never remember after the concerts are over – perhaps she’s so lost in the moment that nothing else matters.

For a moment, it goes quiet. Anju rests, giggling having ceased, eyes closed peacefully with a gentle smile playing on her lips, with Erena doing the same behind her. Tsubasa has her eyes closed still, revelling in the feeling of the moment, drinks laying aside and all complications momentarily forgotten. For just a moment. Just a single moment.

After the moment passes, Tsubasa opens her eyes-

-in time to hear the rapid screeching of a tyre against the ground.

Anju and Erena are startled awake as the tour bus jerks to the side. Out the window, a car comes into view, visible only for a second, silencing Tsubasa’s scream for help by slamming into the side of the bus. The last thing Tsubasa can make out is Erena’s arms being thrown around Anju as they were launched from their seats, eyes squeezed shut. She meets Anju’s gaze for a single, short moment, seeing her eyes speaking words she’s never said out loud before – she holds onto it, holds onto the electric shock she receives every time they meet each other’s eyes, the warm, buzzing feeling, trying desperately just to _hold on_ …

It doesn’t last long. Nothing ever does.

Once she loses sight of her, everything goes white. She’s vaguely aware of a ringing in her head, not really being able to distinguish whether it’s actually there or if she’s just imagining it. She can’t hear much beyond that, except the echoing of the screeching tyres and the sound of a scream. _Who’s screaming_? It’s like she loses grip on reality for just a moment, before she hits the ground, pain shooting up her spine as she hears a deafening crack, feeling herself go limp on the ground, unable to move in fear of worsening the already excruciating pain.

The ground feels cold, but her pain is white hot, burning to her core until she swears the only thing she feels is pain. She sees flames, reaching higher to the sky, as if they’re trying to escape from the situation, taunting her because she can’t. _The tour van is on fire_. That’s the only thought she can register right now.

She fades in and out of consciousness. Each time she wakes up is like a new shock, her body jolting at the foreign feeling of lying on the cold grass by a burning vehicle, before screaming out from the pain it brings her limbs to move even slightly. Sirens are audible before she knows it, paramedics shouting towards one another as they move in closer, before she feels them touch her.

_Don’t_. She wants to scream at them to stop, because every single touch sets her on fire, as if her body is desperately trying to tell her brain to stop them. But her brain can’t respond. Nothing responds, so she remains limp as they pick her up, lifting her onto a stretcher. In the few moments of unbearable pain, she can’t even find it within her to make a single noise. Eventually, some sort of guttural choke escapes her throat, closed up from the fumes, and the paramedic signals to the other that she’s alive. Breathing.

_Is Anju breathing?_

She can’t bring herself to try and look. Not because of the pain, but because she doesn’t want to. What if she opened her eyes to find Anju, delicate Anju, the girl with the kindest heart she’s ever known, torn to shreds by some sharp tree branch? Her spine broken, skull crushed, however many ways there are to die in a _car crash, this wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t-_

All she remembers is a hand on her shoulder and a woman’s calming voice telling her it will be alright before she blacks out. For good, this time.

~~

_Beep-beep. Beep-beep._

The noise is so repetitive, so infuriating, she almost wants to lift her hand and slam the machine off. But when she tries, attempting to move her muscle, she manages to raise it about a centimetre before she gives up, letting it fall limp by her side again.

The few moments between waking up and regaining consciousness can be the calmest times of your life. You’re awake, staring at the blurry ceiling, your thoughts all over the place, all issues buried for a few seconds. Arguably, the next few seconds after that could be the most frantic. For Tsubasa, it’s recalling the events which had led to her being hospitalised – as she tries to gather her thoughts, she retraces her steps.

The shows ended. They got in the van – _the van was destroyed_ – they turned on the stereo, and they drove. She remembers the van moving, swaying, she remembers Anju leaning back into Erena and closing her eyes, she remembers the clink of champagne glasses and laughter. She remembers feeling tired. Then there’s a flash of white, the feeling of being thrown from the vehicle, the pain she was in – _what happened to them_?

It’s not her own injuries and inability to move which causes her to panic. It’s not knowing where her friends are – she’s the only one in the room, the only sound other than her heart monitor being the repetitive ticking of a wall clock. Everything moves in time – tick, _beep_ , tock, tick, _beep_ , tock, tick, _beep_ , tock – contrasting vastly against the confusion in her mind.

The door opens, and what appears to be a nurse walks in.

“Miss Tsubasa,” he says, making his way towards her bed and taking a seat on the visitor’s chair beside it. “I’m glad you’re conscious. Your parents were here just a few moments ago, but I believe they left due to important business.”

“W-W…” She underestimates the pain she’s in, grimacing at the effort it takes just to force the words out of her throat. “Where’s…”

The nurse looks grim. Dread fills her heart at the way he avoids eye contact for a moment, choosing to look everywhere except her. _Just tell me_. She feels a stinging at her eyes. _Just tell me and get it over with_.

Looking as though he’d finally mustered up the courage, he looks her in the eye. “I’m sorry, Miss Tsubasa, but Toudou Erena was pronounced dead on site. She had broken her neck from the force of hitting a tree, killing her instantly.”

The words don’t feel real. She can’t cry, she can’t scream, because _it’s not true_. Instead she just tenses and nods, reality still seeming blurry. Nothing registers. She knows what he’s said, but she can’t seem to grasp what it _means_. “Erena…” Dead? _No, she can’t be dead_. Just moments ago, she was laughing and holding Anju and staring out the window – that can’t just disappear in such a short space of time. Tsubasa shakes her head, trying and failing to ignore the pain which comes with it.

“And… Anju?”

The nurse looks even more regretful, if possible, and shakes his head. “She’s currently comatose, but it isn’t looking like she’s going to make it. Her wounds are critical, and even if she did miraculously survive, she’d be paralysed for life and most likely end up with respiratory failure.”

The bluntness of the statement makes it even less believable, even though she knows it’s true. Her belief of the statement is rooted deeply within her mind, doubt and denial forming at the surface as she pushes the truth away, choosing instead to close her eyes again so she doesn’t have to see the look on the nurse’s face.

“The most important thing here is how _you_ are,” he continues. She doesn’t open her eyes as he speaks. “You are most likely the only survivor of this incident, meaning we need to prioritise your health and recovery. You’ve suffered multiple broken bones, and injuries which will require physiotherapy for quite a long time. You were also burned rather severely in the incident, primarily on the side of your stomach up to your shoulder, and more mildly on your hips and legs. We may need to perform surgery to…”

He carries on, listing all her wounds, listing minor surgeries that will take place, the kind of physio she’ll have to do, the likeliness of things getting better – _how can they get better_? Her body feels like it’s on fire still, even though it’s potentially been hours since the accident. When he brings up the burns, she feels them, trying to remember when during the accident she got so close to the fire as for it to burn her so badly. She can’t remember. Everything was a blur – she couldn’t perceive anything correctly, let alone how close the fire was to her. She just hopes they don’t try to ask questions immediately.

“…We have no grounds to suggest that this incident was deliberate, but as the driver who crashed into you escaped, an investigation will be carried out by the police. These things can happen, obsessive fans setting out to cause incidents like this for their idols in the pursuit of attention. However, we won’t be hassling you about this for now. At the present moment, your top priority is rest and recovery.”

He stops talking, and Tsubasa nods to the best of her ability. He coughs, then says something about needing to check on ‘the other one’, and takes his leave, leaving Tsubasa lying alone.

_Erena is dead. Anju is dying._

_Why do the words not feel real?_

She tests moving her leg again, not being as surprised when pain shoots up her body. She grimaces and tilts her head back. It hurts the least to move her head, though it still makes her squirm to do so. Her mind chooses to focus on the rhythmic ticking of the clock and beeping of the monitor, allowing herself to grow weary again. The longer she prolongs facing the situation, the more blissfully she’ll be able to rest. _There’ll be time for nightmares later._

Still dazed, confused, and isolated, she lets her breathing even out, and falls back into a sleep, praying that this one will be the one she never wakes up from.

**Author's Note:**

> screech at me on tumblr @nozoh0e
> 
> i'm sorry i'm so infrequent at updating ;0; i have an awful attention span and i cant stay focused and consistently write, so i tend to be extremely irregular in my updates, but please try to bear with me!!


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